simplegoat
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Warning: The following is story is not thoroughly researched and features characters in a historical setting. If you are offended by inaccurate depictions of the Victorian era, please move to a different section of the internet. Featuring a character who speaks french/English. Bad french skill forewarning. Also contains tickling, feet, and women. But you probably have less problems with that.
The carriage made it's way slowly though the morning fog. Shaking slightly as it ventured over the overgrown path under the cover of the backwoods. The young woman inside looked wistfully at the passing trees through the window of the covered carriage. Her hand was idly playing with her wavy brown hair. Her hazel eyes were glazed over with despair. She had low expectations for the success of her visit, but was hoping to be surprised. This visit would be her last chance at freedom.
Her name was Emma, and belonged to a family of nobility, the 2nd daughter of 3. She was heading to “Madam Genevieve's House for the Creatively Inept.” A place offering a therapy for those suffering under a lack of creative vision or a prolonged experience of writers block. She had received a pamphlet about the house months ago, but found it may be her only option. At home she was being pressured into marriage, since turning 18, but was able to prevent her family from forcing the ceremony by writing poetry and short stories. She wrote well and claimed marriage would spoil her creative mind. Her plan had been successful, allowing her family to boast her writing talent, and allowing her to remain unmarried. It was perfect until her writing ability plummeted. She could barely craft a sentence and her father had already begun arranging for a suitor.
The forest had cleared and she was approaching the Madam Genevieve's house. The simple drawing on the pamphlet had not done justice. The mansion was beautiful and far larger than she had imagined. Already her mood had been lifted as the carriage stopped before the grand doors. A large woman in vibrant blue, bell-shaped, dress gracefully descended the stairs as she greeted the new arrivals.
“Welcome!” She said, spreading her arms out wide as the driver assisted the young woman from the carriage. “You've made the right choice to seek the help of Madam Genevieve!” She said once again holding her arms up high, “ I am her assistant Elvira and I welcome you to our house.”
“Thank you,” said the Emma looking down slightly. The presence of the madam's Assistant was slightly bizarre. She wore outstanding blues, and was adorned with many feathers. She had large breasts and her dress exposed much of her cleavage. No doubt enhanced by a corset. But most notable was her exposed arms. Her waving arms seemed to flaunt the freedom she had without sleeves and showed her hairless under arms. The way she moved her arms and the way she wore many feathers made her resemble some kind of great bird. She showed much more than Emma's sleeved dress. You could only see her hands and head.
As several women began to retrieve her luggage, Elvira lead her up the stairs. She turned to address the driver, “You may be on your way now. I'll send a message for her return in a month. Or more,” she said, moving her gaze toward the young woman. “I hope you have the most wonderful stay while your here,” She said, again gesturing wildly with her arms. “I know I did when I first arrived here.” As they entered the mansion, Emma was overwhelmed by the sight of the many decorations and paintings of the interior. Vibrant colors and sparkling ornaments filled the central hall. They pressed forward past a hall of many fabulous paintings. Emma stopped at one painting in particular. A scene with a red haired woman laying nude next to a beautiful blue bird. “Do you like that one,” Elvira asked.
“It's magnificent,” Emma replied, her eyes studying the masterpiece.
“I did that for Madam Genevieve last year,” she started moving again and Emma quickly followed. “I started attending Madam's therapies only 4 years ago. I could barely pick up a brush, and now I can't put my arms down!” She said with a slight laugh.
Emma was about to question her more about this therapy, but they had arrived at the study where a very tall woman reading on a couch wearing a subtle red tea dress next to a window. Despite her intimidating size she was quite beautiful. Long dark red hair was flowing like fiery waves from the breeze through the window. Her long pale fingers had long nails painted red, and her long bare feet also had painted red toes. Emma recognized her as the woman from the painting, but she looked incredibly youthful. She expected the Madam to be much older, yet her assistant was older than her.
“Madam,” said Elvira with a slight bow, “I've brought your newest patient.”
The Madam looked up and smiled, placing a feather to mark her page and setting the book on a corner table. She stood up showing the even greater difference between high between the two. She stood over 6 feet while Emma was a simple 5 foot 4. “Welcome,” she finally said. Her voice was like sweet wine. The humble words made Emma blush slightly, yet she could not tell why. “I am Madam Genevieve. I hope you feel comfortable during your stay and, with treatment, have your inspiration return.”
The Madam's beauty and presence was intimidating to Emma, she looked down, but found the long shapely feet looking back at her. She glance toward Elvira who gave her a slight wink. “I am Emma,” she said nervously.
“Well Emma,” She responded, “I'll lead you to your room so you may unpack. We'll beguine your treatment tomorrow. But for now, you may make yourself at home. Explore the grounds. No door is locked to you.” She said with a sweeping wave of her arm while leading her up the grand staircase.
They passed by several doors down the long hall. Emma noticed the distinct sound of laughter, but disregarded it as they pass by. They arrived at her room and she noticed it was also decorated with feathers. They were arranged in a vase with flowers, hanging from the canopy of the bed, and on the desk was a very large feather quill.
“You can find me in the study if you need me,” Said the Madam. As she left a feather from her dress brushed Emma's cheek, causing her to twitch and blush again.
“My room's down the hall,” Said Elvira, “Come see me if you have any trouble getting settled in.” She left slowly and took a quick peak into one of the rooms before going down the stairs.
Emma walked into the room and dropped herself on the bed like a fallen marionette. She laid there for a moment before sitting up and taking the feather quill off the desk. She brushed it against her cheek like the Madam's feather had.
“Not the same,” She though, lying back down again. An odd mixture of exhaustion and excitement boiled in her. She wished to leave her room, but was nervous about what she might find. Taking a deep breath, she jumped to her feet. Took a few moments to adjust herself in the mirror. Took another breath, and opened the door. She had just begun walking down the hall to the stairs when she heard familiar laughing and then some odd comments behind a door.
“Are you sure?” asked a woman with a mellow voice.
“Oui!” said another woman with the sound of frantic hesitation.
“Really?” She asked again.
“I'm ready,” she replied. Her breathing could be heard clearly through the door. “Allez! Az deep az you can! Don't stop!”
“Okay,” said the other woman in the mellow tone.
Sudden squeals and laughter erupted from the room. The volume nearly knocked Emma off her feet. As if curiosity itself had possessed her, she opened the door.
A woman in a light yellow dress was dipping and swirling a brush of red paint into the navel of a small blond woman laying across her lap. The woman shook her head rapidly as the probing bristles swirled around in her belly button. Taking the brush from the squirming belly the woman in yellow looked up slowly to meet Emma's stare. “A new girl,” she said.
“Où?” Asked the painted woman as she turned her head toward the door. She quickly and gracefully jumped to her feet and pointed at Emma, “A new girl!” She shouted.
“It's rude to point,” said the mellow woman.
“Désolé,” She apologized, putting her hands together.
Emma hadn't said anything out of confusion. The blond woman was oddly painted indeed. Her face was painted black and white with a diamond painted over her yes. Her clothes were a checkered pattern of black and white with gloves baring the mark of Clubs and shoes with Spades. The only bright color on her was her luminescent blond hair, bright red lips, and red heart painted on her exposed belly like a target.
“Forgive the noise,” said the woman in yellow. “We were just finishing our morning ritual.”
“And what was that?” Emma asked.
“My making up,” answered the painted woman pulling a jester's hat on. “Je suis Harlequin Janette!”
“I'm Allison,” said the other woman.
“Sorry for intruding. My name is Emma,” she said with a slight bow.
“Enchanté,” said Janette.
“Please to meet you,” said the yellow woman.
Emma paused for a moment, studying the odd girls. “If you don't mind me asking,” she said, “what made you come to Madam Genevieve's?”
Allison answered first, “I do wood block prints, but after a while I found myself incapable of working the medium. I became really frustrated and could no longer bare to hold a carving knife.” She explained. “But if there's one thing Madam can do, it's cure stress.”
“I was great performer!” Janette announced throwing her hands in the air. “Yet on stage, fear took my heart.” She said with an exaggerated droop holding her hand to her heart. “So I come for the Madam!” She said standing back up. “And now, no more butterflies inside me!” She said arching her back into a bridge and walking across the floor on all fours. She stopped in front of Allison who dipped the red brush back into her navel, causing her to squeal and crumble to the ground. “No fair!” she said getting back on her feet.
Already thoroughly confused, Emma began to excuse herself as she made her way to the door. “It was nice meeting you, but I must get going to see the rest of the manor.” She said as she stood in the door way.
“See you later,” said Allison.
“Au revoir,” Janette said after her.
Emma closed the door behind her and began walking down the hall again. “So bizarre,” She said to herself as she continued down the steps.
End of chapter 1,
To be continued.
The carriage made it's way slowly though the morning fog. Shaking slightly as it ventured over the overgrown path under the cover of the backwoods. The young woman inside looked wistfully at the passing trees through the window of the covered carriage. Her hand was idly playing with her wavy brown hair. Her hazel eyes were glazed over with despair. She had low expectations for the success of her visit, but was hoping to be surprised. This visit would be her last chance at freedom.
Her name was Emma, and belonged to a family of nobility, the 2nd daughter of 3. She was heading to “Madam Genevieve's House for the Creatively Inept.” A place offering a therapy for those suffering under a lack of creative vision or a prolonged experience of writers block. She had received a pamphlet about the house months ago, but found it may be her only option. At home she was being pressured into marriage, since turning 18, but was able to prevent her family from forcing the ceremony by writing poetry and short stories. She wrote well and claimed marriage would spoil her creative mind. Her plan had been successful, allowing her family to boast her writing talent, and allowing her to remain unmarried. It was perfect until her writing ability plummeted. She could barely craft a sentence and her father had already begun arranging for a suitor.
The forest had cleared and she was approaching the Madam Genevieve's house. The simple drawing on the pamphlet had not done justice. The mansion was beautiful and far larger than she had imagined. Already her mood had been lifted as the carriage stopped before the grand doors. A large woman in vibrant blue, bell-shaped, dress gracefully descended the stairs as she greeted the new arrivals.
“Welcome!” She said, spreading her arms out wide as the driver assisted the young woman from the carriage. “You've made the right choice to seek the help of Madam Genevieve!” She said once again holding her arms up high, “ I am her assistant Elvira and I welcome you to our house.”
“Thank you,” said the Emma looking down slightly. The presence of the madam's Assistant was slightly bizarre. She wore outstanding blues, and was adorned with many feathers. She had large breasts and her dress exposed much of her cleavage. No doubt enhanced by a corset. But most notable was her exposed arms. Her waving arms seemed to flaunt the freedom she had without sleeves and showed her hairless under arms. The way she moved her arms and the way she wore many feathers made her resemble some kind of great bird. She showed much more than Emma's sleeved dress. You could only see her hands and head.
As several women began to retrieve her luggage, Elvira lead her up the stairs. She turned to address the driver, “You may be on your way now. I'll send a message for her return in a month. Or more,” she said, moving her gaze toward the young woman. “I hope you have the most wonderful stay while your here,” She said, again gesturing wildly with her arms. “I know I did when I first arrived here.” As they entered the mansion, Emma was overwhelmed by the sight of the many decorations and paintings of the interior. Vibrant colors and sparkling ornaments filled the central hall. They pressed forward past a hall of many fabulous paintings. Emma stopped at one painting in particular. A scene with a red haired woman laying nude next to a beautiful blue bird. “Do you like that one,” Elvira asked.
“It's magnificent,” Emma replied, her eyes studying the masterpiece.
“I did that for Madam Genevieve last year,” she started moving again and Emma quickly followed. “I started attending Madam's therapies only 4 years ago. I could barely pick up a brush, and now I can't put my arms down!” She said with a slight laugh.
Emma was about to question her more about this therapy, but they had arrived at the study where a very tall woman reading on a couch wearing a subtle red tea dress next to a window. Despite her intimidating size she was quite beautiful. Long dark red hair was flowing like fiery waves from the breeze through the window. Her long pale fingers had long nails painted red, and her long bare feet also had painted red toes. Emma recognized her as the woman from the painting, but she looked incredibly youthful. She expected the Madam to be much older, yet her assistant was older than her.
“Madam,” said Elvira with a slight bow, “I've brought your newest patient.”
The Madam looked up and smiled, placing a feather to mark her page and setting the book on a corner table. She stood up showing the even greater difference between high between the two. She stood over 6 feet while Emma was a simple 5 foot 4. “Welcome,” she finally said. Her voice was like sweet wine. The humble words made Emma blush slightly, yet she could not tell why. “I am Madam Genevieve. I hope you feel comfortable during your stay and, with treatment, have your inspiration return.”
The Madam's beauty and presence was intimidating to Emma, she looked down, but found the long shapely feet looking back at her. She glance toward Elvira who gave her a slight wink. “I am Emma,” she said nervously.
“Well Emma,” She responded, “I'll lead you to your room so you may unpack. We'll beguine your treatment tomorrow. But for now, you may make yourself at home. Explore the grounds. No door is locked to you.” She said with a sweeping wave of her arm while leading her up the grand staircase.
They passed by several doors down the long hall. Emma noticed the distinct sound of laughter, but disregarded it as they pass by. They arrived at her room and she noticed it was also decorated with feathers. They were arranged in a vase with flowers, hanging from the canopy of the bed, and on the desk was a very large feather quill.
“You can find me in the study if you need me,” Said the Madam. As she left a feather from her dress brushed Emma's cheek, causing her to twitch and blush again.
“My room's down the hall,” Said Elvira, “Come see me if you have any trouble getting settled in.” She left slowly and took a quick peak into one of the rooms before going down the stairs.
Emma walked into the room and dropped herself on the bed like a fallen marionette. She laid there for a moment before sitting up and taking the feather quill off the desk. She brushed it against her cheek like the Madam's feather had.
“Not the same,” She though, lying back down again. An odd mixture of exhaustion and excitement boiled in her. She wished to leave her room, but was nervous about what she might find. Taking a deep breath, she jumped to her feet. Took a few moments to adjust herself in the mirror. Took another breath, and opened the door. She had just begun walking down the hall to the stairs when she heard familiar laughing and then some odd comments behind a door.
“Are you sure?” asked a woman with a mellow voice.
“Oui!” said another woman with the sound of frantic hesitation.
“Really?” She asked again.
“I'm ready,” she replied. Her breathing could be heard clearly through the door. “Allez! Az deep az you can! Don't stop!”
“Okay,” said the other woman in the mellow tone.
Sudden squeals and laughter erupted from the room. The volume nearly knocked Emma off her feet. As if curiosity itself had possessed her, she opened the door.
A woman in a light yellow dress was dipping and swirling a brush of red paint into the navel of a small blond woman laying across her lap. The woman shook her head rapidly as the probing bristles swirled around in her belly button. Taking the brush from the squirming belly the woman in yellow looked up slowly to meet Emma's stare. “A new girl,” she said.
“Où?” Asked the painted woman as she turned her head toward the door. She quickly and gracefully jumped to her feet and pointed at Emma, “A new girl!” She shouted.
“It's rude to point,” said the mellow woman.
“Désolé,” She apologized, putting her hands together.
Emma hadn't said anything out of confusion. The blond woman was oddly painted indeed. Her face was painted black and white with a diamond painted over her yes. Her clothes were a checkered pattern of black and white with gloves baring the mark of Clubs and shoes with Spades. The only bright color on her was her luminescent blond hair, bright red lips, and red heart painted on her exposed belly like a target.
“Forgive the noise,” said the woman in yellow. “We were just finishing our morning ritual.”
“And what was that?” Emma asked.
“My making up,” answered the painted woman pulling a jester's hat on. “Je suis Harlequin Janette!”
“I'm Allison,” said the other woman.
“Sorry for intruding. My name is Emma,” she said with a slight bow.
“Enchanté,” said Janette.
“Please to meet you,” said the yellow woman.
Emma paused for a moment, studying the odd girls. “If you don't mind me asking,” she said, “what made you come to Madam Genevieve's?”
Allison answered first, “I do wood block prints, but after a while I found myself incapable of working the medium. I became really frustrated and could no longer bare to hold a carving knife.” She explained. “But if there's one thing Madam can do, it's cure stress.”
“I was great performer!” Janette announced throwing her hands in the air. “Yet on stage, fear took my heart.” She said with an exaggerated droop holding her hand to her heart. “So I come for the Madam!” She said standing back up. “And now, no more butterflies inside me!” She said arching her back into a bridge and walking across the floor on all fours. She stopped in front of Allison who dipped the red brush back into her navel, causing her to squeal and crumble to the ground. “No fair!” she said getting back on her feet.
Already thoroughly confused, Emma began to excuse herself as she made her way to the door. “It was nice meeting you, but I must get going to see the rest of the manor.” She said as she stood in the door way.
“See you later,” said Allison.
“Au revoir,” Janette said after her.
Emma closed the door behind her and began walking down the hall again. “So bizarre,” She said to herself as she continued down the steps.
End of chapter 1,
To be continued.
