she who returned verseXkellyintrouble

[Verse]

The House of Sommerfeldt was made of old, good blood.

It had streaks of blue running through it, but mostly, instead of playing with royals, they liked to fund them. And, if the size and grandeur of their city mansion gave anything, it was that. There were gilded details - however eaten by the smog of the capitol that surrounded it - on pale stone and dark wood. Black, painted fences with silver speartips to impale any unwanted visitors. Though tonight, there wouldn't be many of those.

A Sommerfeldt ball was almost a holiday on its own, sacred for socialites and nobles, all the same. This generation of head of house was young. Lord Cain Sommerfeldt. He had his late father's ambitions and hubris, and his mothers black hair and dark eyes. It would seem unfair he inherited beauty with his unfathomable wealth, but isn't the gap between having, and having not, always like that? He was a monument of his class, and his perch atop the echelon. His posture reflected that, tall and steady, even if he refused to grow into the thickness of a man who'd fought for his earnings, like his father. The bones were there, lengthy and sturdy, but he hadn't swelled into an inelegant brute. A collection of spears rather than a hammer and a bunch of logs. At least when clothed.

Those clothes, tonight, were made of stiff materials. The jacket was long and close, and the vest was of a similar make. Ivory buttons, whiskey coloration, and a lithe tie for his large collar shirt. It was all to make the stage for his features, atop a long neck. Mother's lips and father brow. Unforgiving, black hair tied back with a subtle, red band that curled with the tousled tail of the tresses. It would have been jaw long if let down, and left to coil the way it wanted. Some ill meaning tongues said he wasn't pure of this country. If gossip had been his bane, he would have died several generations ago.

This event was starting. And he was excited, for once. It was a smaller gathering. Mostly inner-city whisperers and their gaggles of friends. Some political ties who liked to speak for slavery and then practice debauchery in their free time. People who shook your hand and judged the value of your rings. People who made wealth for this country and then stole more than was their share. Industrialists and speakers. And women who were mean as a profession. None of his idealist sprites or the do-gooders who entertained the top brass with their large hearts. Just the slightly rotten and the perfectly evil. Those he could verbally spar with and could understand his cruelty for the art that it was. And maybe enforce it.

And another guest, too.

A little girl who's mother had known his father. They said the woman had seen the shadows in Cain's eyes when he was but a brat, and decided this house, with all its treasures and promise, was not for her beloved child. And maybe his father had something to do with that opinion, too. Either way, the young girl had been found, after her mother's death, and was now being returned to House Sommerfeldt. A small, new adult. People didn't know she was the reason for festivities in these grand halls. But, as the carriage that retrieved her was drawn into the stone of the path that led to the side entrance of the grand city home, Cain was quietly ecstatic. He had promised the family that took her in to take good care of her. Not that they'd refuse him, even if they knew his real intentions. The lies were mostly to keep her in the dark until the big surprise. And who knows, if her bloodline was any indication, she would love the life had had planned for her.

He even opened the door to the carriage when it stopped, and held out his hand for her. Kiss it politely, perhaps like the husband he had promised to find her, and then led her up the stairs. She'd be in a perfectly sown dress, in whatever fashion, color and design she wanted, save for a detail of a thick seam that went down it. A hidden trick that went from the bottom of her neckline, through her corset, and all the way to the end of her skirts. A premeditated violation. It had the same look as the snaking rope details of the rest of the garment, though, so who would suspect?

But for now, he'd be civil, if not charming, bringing her up the stairs. "Oh, I've longed for you to come here." he said, honestly. She looked lovely in the the light from the door. Finally, all her mother's hard work, the very thing the woman had died for, would be thwarted, and this pretty girl's destiny could continue unfolding. He leaned in to whisper to her as they reached the top and slipped in to the merry orchestra music and the room filled with lively meetings and loud conversation. "This is where you belong."

And that much was true.

 

[kellyintrouble]

With a sudden giggle, Mal realized that the padded seat of the carriage was the most comfortable thing she had ever sat on. She had never been inside a carriage before, let alone had one rolled out to bring her to a mansion. She picked her hands up off her lap, turning them back and forth and marveling at how clean they were. She could barely recognize them without the ever-present grime from the factory.

She kept waiting to wake up from a dream and find herself back in the shared room with her brothers. But, step by step, she was realizing it was truly happening. She was going back to the life she should have had. She didn't know how or why things had gone wrong when she was little, but this was the sort of life she was supposed to have had all along. She was going to belong, for the first time in her life.

"I'm going to have a husband?" she said, wrinkling her nose a little.

When he had come to tell her the news, he had said it like it was something she should be excited about. A part of her knew she probably should be. She'd heard her brothers go on often enough about finding wives. She had heard other girls titter about which boys would make good husbands. She had never really understood it, though, and had never been comfortable enough around anyone to ask. Her adopted parents had never seemed very thrilled about being married. They really had never seemed thrilled about anything. She pushed the thought aside. She would get the answers soon enough. She was sure of it.

Mal tried, not for the first time, to take a deep breath. The tight corset around her waist stifled the effort, seeming determined to stop her from getting her fill. She arched her back a little, the banding seeming to grow tighter. The clothing would definitely take some getting used to. The vibrant blue down was the most beautiful thing she had ever worn, of course. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, in fact. Seeing herself in it when the tailor finished her work had taken her breath away. The way the corset shaped her waist and then the top lifted her small breasts, it made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life.

She brought her wrist up to her nose, eyelashes fluttering as she breathed in the scent of the perfume there. The scent filled her senses, like that time she'd cut through a greenhouse when running from some bullies. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the lovely scent. This was what her life was like now. Things were pleasant now. A grin crept up on her features at the thought of the food. She wondered what they would have for dinner tonight? She couldn't even truly conceive of what it might be. She only knew that it would be delicious.

"I'm Mal, so pleased to meet you," she said with a giggle, holding out her hand to an imagined guest, but then she shook her head. "I'm sorry, it's Malinda."

She had always just been Mal. Growing up, she had thought it was her whole name. As it turned out, it was actually Malinda, her adopted parents had told her after all this began. She repeated the word. She had been saying it a lot, trying to get used to it.

The coach rolled to a stop, and she sat up straight in her seat. A few moments later, the door opened and she stood. She wobbled a little before catching her balance. The shoes would definitely take some getting used to. She took the coachman's hand, letting him help her down the stairs. Looking up at the mansion made her feel dizzy. It looked bigger than the factory. How many people lived inside such a place?

Then she saw him, looking down on her as he approached. He looked even more dashing than he had the day he swept into her life and changed everything. She took his offered hand when he held it out. Her eyes widened as he gently turned hers to bring it up to his warm lips. A little tremor ran through her at the soft kiss to her fingers. Then she fell into step by his side, her arm locked with his. She focused all her attention on the heels on the backs of her boots, trying to carefully set them down each time to avoid losing her balance. She was proud of herself when she made it to the top of the stairs with only twice needing him for actual support.

"Oh, I've longed for you to come here," he said when they reached the door.

"I," she started, smiling up at him. She struggled to find her voice, to think of what to say. "Thank you."

The words felt stupid even as they left her lips. He had said something so lovely and kind and warm to her, and that was her response? Her breath caught in her throat when he leaned down to whisper to her. Her mind raced. He was going to tell her she was doing something wrong. He was going to correct her. He was going to tell her it was all a big mistake.

"This is where you belong," he whispered, hot breath on her ear.

A blush rising on her cheeks, Mal bit her lip, finally letting herself believe that might be true.

 

[Verse]

She was gorgeous. Like a perfectly tuned new thing that he'd ordered, and the seller had been an honest craftsman. Truly, she could have fit right in, looking like that. After all, she had her mother's blood, which meant she had the beauty of a royal, but there was no refinement in those genes. The way she faltered on the heels showed that. He could have trained her. There were a lot of clowns in his tier of society too. She was better than some. But that's not what she was for. That's not the life he'd deemed for her.

But he enjoyed her like a debutante, still. Maybe she was, only the thing she was stepping into, wasn't a traditional season of courting and parties. Not the way she thought, anyway. If she thought anything about it at all. The family that took her after her wretched mother had stolen her away had been very sparse with the details. He had not needed for her to be some well-read lady, but he would have preferred at least some readiness for this life. Her mother's early death must have cut off whatever money there'd been, and with it, any motivation. Where was all the sense of duty among the lower class?

A different kind of education would begin for Malinda, tonight. She was beaming, and he thought she should, but he also knew she wouldn't think so, once they got started. She was so light, holding on to him, and he thought she looked adorable when she blushed when he welcomed her home. At least that had been genuine. He hadn't really lied to her. She was here because she belonged, and she would marry soon. Only, she was going to be here as his slave, and she'd marry his cock, and her duty to it. For now, he'd deepen the impact by letting her stay in this ridiculous dream for a little longer.

He took her to the refreshments table first. He handed her a glass of sweet cherry and placed a strawberry tart in her other hand. They were exquisite, of course, and none of them were the acquired tastes of some of the other snacks there. Better ease her in to that. She would, after all, be having savory things in her mouth all too soon, whether she found them to her liking or not. He would make sure she eventually loved it.

A gaggle of women were the first to see, and they hurried over, arms locked together. Their painted up faces were very modern, but neither of them were as naturally pretty as Mal. He tilted his head and touched the low over her back as they fawned over her. These ladies knew the ruse, and wouldn't reveal the twist to this soon-to-be whore, and ruin his fun. They instead indulged in it. He even had to step aside as they surrounded her, gasping at her pretty proportions and her youthful skin. They showered her with compliments and comments about how surely she would enjoy her first season as available for courting, and that Cain Sommerfeldt was the perfect guide through it.

Eventually he had to step in and shoo them away. He laughed quietly and bowed down closer to Mal. "You'll have to excuse them. They're stuck socializing with each other, and get overly excited every time there's something new." he offered his arm again. "Do you have any skills? Anything you can perform?" he asked casually as he led her along the wall, past the busier pods of conversationalists on the floor. "If not, I intend to teach you quite a bit. I want to make you an entertainer after my own designs." he laughed, as though he was embarrassed about that ambition.

 

[kellyintrouble]

Mal tried not to cling to his arm too tightly as he led her over to the refreshments. She wanted to look like she belonged in this wondrous place, but that really could not be farther from the truth. She felt utterly out of place. Her contact with Mister Sommerfeldt kept her grounded. Without it, she was sure she would simply float up through the ceiling and disappear. Close to him, she was safe.

The table before her, covered in delicacies, was the most decadent thing she had ever seen. She could not even imagine the amount of time it must have taken to craft such delicate little treats. She bit her lower lip when her benefactor released her arm and went to select some options. Suddenly, it was like she didn't know what to do with her hands. How did a proper lady hold them? She put them at her sides, then behind her, and then finally clutched them together in front of her.

Mal was doubly grateful when he returned to her with refreshments, glad to have a task for her stupid hands and to not have to try and make her own selections. She took the pretty little crystal glass from him, as well as the golden-crusted tart. She lifted the tart to her lips and took a bite.

"Mmmm," she moaned softly.

Whether she liked the treat or not, Mal had been determined to act as though she loved it. She had not been prepared for what she was about to taste. The rich, buttery crust seemed to melt away as she bit into it. Her eyelashes fluttered as the vibrant flavor of strawberry filled her senses. She had eaten strawberries before, but those wild little things offered what she now realized was just an echo of what their true flavor was supposed to be. Before she realized she was doing it, she had shoved the rest of it in her mouth, eating it greedily. Blushing, she reached up to cover her mouth as she chewed and swallowed it.

"This must be Sommerfeldt's long lost lady-to-be," a woman's voice called out. "A shame on you, Cain Sommerfeldt, for keeping her all to yourself."

Malinda turned to see a pair of woman approaching, arms locked together as his had been with hers. With their painted faces and exquisite gowns, Mal at once felt suddenly very plain and small. She began to take a step backwards on instinct, but then felt Mister Sommerfeldt's reassuring hand come to rest on the small of her back. She took in as deep a breath as she could manage, corset pressing so tightly into her waist, and smiled up at the newcomers.

"I knew it was a lie," the second woman spoke, and Mal's eyes widened. "All this talk about her being raised in the gutter and such nonsense."

"Precisely," the first laughed. "Your propaganda won't work on us, Lord Sommerfeldt. Such an elegant and beautiful young thing could never have grown up in squalor."

She felt his hand leave her back as the two ladies moved in close and began to circle her. Not trust her voice to speak, she brought the glass up to her lips and took a sip. The liquid warmed her throat as she drank it. It was sweet and a little thicker than water. Her mouth exploded in a wave of flavors that she didn't recognize at the sip.
"Why, her corset is hardly pulled in at all," one remarked from behind her. "This delectable figure before us is almost entirely natural. That's quite unfair, I must say."

The one in front leaned in a little, narrowing her eyes as she gazed intently at the young girl's face and neck. Mal kept her gaze focused away, picking a spot on the wall and staring at it.

"Oh, and her skin," the woman practically purred, and Mal could feel her warm breath on her cheek. "So soft and smooth and unblemished. A Queen would be envious of her."

"On which country estate were you keeping her, Lord Sommerfeldt?" the one behind demanded.

"Yes, you must tell us," the one in front laughed. "Where was she secreted away, bathed and lotioned and crafted into this perfect little lady we see before us now?"

"She's practically a marble statue come to life!"

Relief washed over Mal when he finally stepped back in and shooed the two women away. She leaned into him a little more when he took her arm again. But, as overwhelming as the encounter had been, she could not help but feel a little flutter of pride inside her. She was pretty? Those two women were envious of her? A part of her told herself that they had just been being kind. Those things they said could not really be true, could they?

"You'll have to excuse them," he said to her. "They're stuck socializing with each other, and get overly excited every time there's something new."

"They seemed very nice," she said with a smile.

She walked with him along the wall, glad to be avoiding the crowds of people. It was a thrill to her simply to look at them. The hall was filled with so many colors. She had never known the world could be so pretty.

"Do you have any skills? Anything you can perform?" he asked. "If not, I intend to teach you quite a bit. I want to make you an entertainer after my own designs."

At first, the question made her anxiousness flare up. Skills? Her? She could push a cart at the factory. But then his own nervous little laugh disarmed her fears. He was going to teach her. Just the thought of it warmed her heart.

"No, I'm sorry but I really don't, Mister Sommerfeldt. There wasn't really a lot of extra time for learning things like that. But I would really love you to teach me."