The Training of Scarlet Worthy (5 page)

On the counter was a gift basket of treats. Cheeses, meats, grapes and other delights. A red bow hung from the handle. It read: Welcome to The Manor.

I removed a bottle of French wine and popped the cork. I filled a glass.
One of my glasses.
I thought.
Perhaps someday I would be entertaining here? Perhaps there was a man in my future?
I took an unladylike gulp from the glass. I wondered, did this all really happen? Soon my curiosity overcame my bewilderment and like a child I wandered through my new private castle of a cottage - glass and bottle in hand. I was feeling quite giddy and I began to fantasize. Pretending, I indulged myself. I imagined myself to be a rich and important Lady of the Cottage Manor. I giggled as I strolled from room to room, and in each room I mouthed the words -
mine, all mine
.

I was half way up the stairs to the second floor when I remembered the package. Lady Julia said that there would be new clothes for me. New clothes that she herself had chosen for me to wear as her Executive Assistant. I ran up the remainder of the steps. I loved surprises, and it had been so long since I had anything new in my dreary wardrobe.

I placed my wine glass and bottle down and retrieved the box from the bedroom closet. I tore into it as if it were Christmas morning. There were three new outfits, but they were all somewhat the same.
That’s a bit odd
. I thought. I laid them side by side on the bed. The blouses were clearly expensive. Each blouse featured a high neck collar that was so very formal.

Edwardian styling
, I thought. They were all long sleeved and both the collar and cuffs were adorned with the finest lace. Each blouse had pleats of lace down the front or were adorned with equal amounts of lace cascading from collar to waist. There was a black one, a white version and one in deep purple. The skirts were complementary colors, all pencil skirts. Deeper in the box I found three belts, all of the finest leather and wide - four inches wide, and sculptured to rest on the wearers constricted waist and flared hips.

Elegant,
I thought,
and a bit sexy, but the outfits would surely convey the authority of that of a business woman, and the workmanship just screamed money
. I made a mental note to thank My Lady.

There was a note in the bottom of the box. I unfolded the linen paper. The note was from Lady Julia in the script that was so unique to her hand.

Wear these cloths to work. Secure your hair in a French twist or a fashion that conveys a no- nonsense business woman. You will find proper
jackets
to ware over these items. They are in your closet. In the drawer of your dresser you will find cotton panties and cotton bras. They will suit you until I can have a tailor and seamstress fit you for other garments for special occasions. Under your bed is a package that will contain suitable wear for the morning’s tour of the Estate. Follow the instructions exactly as I have written them. We will be riding horses for much of the tour. Be prepared and be prompt.

The note was initialed
JSR
.

I bent over and sure enough, under the bed was a box neatly wrapped in decorative paper. I placed it on the bed. The wrapping conveyed English equestrian scenes. Scenes of mounted men and women dressed in riding gear and assembled in a field. The dogs were at their feet and the dogs, horses and riders seemed ready for the hunt.

I removed the paper and opened the box. The first item made me giggle. It was a black brim hat, much like a derby. A bright red ribbon circled the crown and flowed sweetly over the back of the brim. I pictured it whipping in the air as I dashed over the countryside. I had little experience with horses, but it sounded exciting and I was enjoying the innocent step outside of my more reserved comfort zone. I set the hat upon my head and pulled it snug. "Tally Ho!" I squealed, and followed that laughing with joy.

I found a second note and opened it. I was started by the first sentence written in My Lady's hand:

STRIP OFF ALL OF YOUR CLOTHING - NOW!

I could feel my face redden. My pulse began to throb. I gathered myself. Unconsciously, I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse. I was in a bit of a trance. I couldn't take my eyes off of what she had written. I mouthed the words. I would echo the same words again many times. "Yes My Lady, as you wish."

I removed my blouse and placed it on the table. My bra followed. I slipped out of my skirt and laid it there as well. My thumbs cupped the elastic of my panties. I took a breath.

I am stripping on command - on written command made by a beautiful woman whom I had just met that day.
I silently asked myself.
Why am I doing this? And why am I so thrilled to be doing her bidding.
My skin was tingling. I sipped more wine.

I stepped out of the cotton panties and dropped them on the bed with my other clothing. I turned and faced the full dressing mirror. I was naked except for the black Hat and my black pumps. I struck a provocative pose. I was astonished. A very sexy young woman stared back at me. I pulled my hair back.
My Lady is right.
I thought.
The woman in the mirror looked better with her hair pulled tightly behind her head.

I began to turn slowly. Inspecting myself. My skin was flawless except for a freckle here and there.
What true red head is exempt from that
, I thought. I was lean and toned of muscle from walking the hills of Bath. My breast were perky, not large, but more than satisfactory and firm, my nipples pink and so very sensitive. I placed my fingertips on them and shivers ran the length of my body.

My bottom was tight and well-shaped, my legs and calves sculpted.
I can hold my own with anyone,
I boasted. Suddenly I became empowered by the wine. I was getting warm and I knew I dare not touch my pussy. It never took long to bring myself to climax. I blushed at my easy and erotic secret flaw. I was privately embarrassed that it took so little stimulation to bring me to orgasm, and to continue the pulsing so many times over and over in a single episode.

My mind was set free by the wine so I ignored my typical self-imposed chastisement, a routine that I used to mentally flogged myself for my sinful libido.

Good girls did not carry
that
burden as did I, and good girls did not fear that idle moment when their fingers touched their body and their body betrayed them and sent them into multiple throbbing earthquakes at the center of their womanhood. I alone bore that delicious scarlet letter, a scarlet secret as bold and as red as the thick crimson thatch that lay upon my pussy.

I removed the hat and stepped out of my shoes. I stood naked as My Lady instructed.

I sipped more wine and returned to inspect the remaining items in the package. I foraged about. There was no underwear.
Did My Lady forget to include them?
I remembered our meeting. I remembered that she herself wore no bra beneath her silk blouse. I slipped on the white blouse that was folded neatly in the box. The silk fabric was cool on my skin. I buttoned the front closure and the silk garment shifted against my nipples. They betrayed me, springing instantly to attention, both nipples erect, happy and as hard as pebbles against the mere touch of silk. It felt wonderful. I closed my eyes and let the richness of the silk float gently against my skin. The fluffy tie that dangled from the high collar did little to disguise my aroused breasts.

I removed the next garment from the package. They were leggings of some nature. At first I was sure that they were too small for me, but as I examined them I found that the white cotton fabric was quite elastic. At the end of each leg hung foot stirrups which I presumed were there to hold the garment in place. It was a one piece pair of riding breeches with no belt or closure of any kind. I sat on the bed and inserted my legs into the pant legs. It was an effort to pull them on and I wiggled as the garment encased my body. I tucked in the blouse and turned to see myself in the mirror.

I gasped at my reflection.
I can’t wear these
, I thought.
They’re skin tight
. The lips of my pussy were outlined as if I were naked. The pants were so tight one could see the individual swirls of hair on my pubic mound. I blushed at the humiliation I would surely endure the following morning. Surely My Lady would see the mistake and find a replacement. I would ask her. I would beg her to help me in my plight.

The interior thighs of the leggings were lined in white patent leather. I glanced at the package. I saw the black riding coat. Perhaps this would save me, allowing me to cover my sex. I slipped on the coat and sighed. It buttoned to the waist and to my regret - it terminated abruptly at my waist. The back flared into tails hanging at the rear. My frontal view insured that my pussy lips were still the focus. I continued dressing in the riding costume. The black leather boots came to the knee. They were exquisite and the smell of such richness clouded my senses so that my mind momentarily drifted from my predicament. I placed the hat upon my head.

There was a taping on the rear door of the cottage. I grabbed the wine bottle and skipped down the steps hoping that My Lady was at the door and that she would see that I needed more proper britches for the morning. I swung open the back door and found not My Lady Julia, but Cook - she held a serving tray covered by an embroidered napkin.

“May I enter Ms. Smith,” she said in a whisper.

“Oh, Cook,” I said. “Please come in. Would you share a glass of my wine?”

I held up the wine like it was an exhibit. The tiny French woman looked over her shoulder and whispered. “Just a little would be nice Mademoiselle.”

I poured her a glass as I peeked under the napkin. “Thank you for bringing his…”I paused. “What is your real name? “Cook” seems so – well so awkward?”

“But Cook is my name Mademoiselle. My Lady gave that name to me.” She said it so naturally as if the name came to her at baptism.

“Then, Cook, welcome to my home. You are my first guest.” I held my glass up for a salute. In doing so my hunt jacket rose well above my waist. I could see that Cooks eyes fell upon the swelling folds of my pussy lips trapped against the tight fabric of my leggings.

“My Lady and you are going riding in the morning Mademoiselle?”

“Yes, in the morning. Why? Do you find a flaw in my costume cook?” I said it with a touch of sarcasm. The wine had embolden me.

“Oh no, Mademoiselle, it is lovely. I am just jealous that I am not permitted to be along with you and My Lady. You are most gorgeous Miss – strikingly gorgeous.” Cook made a bow of submission.

“Please call me Sybil.”

The little woman in the apron looked up at me. “I’m sorry I am not permitted such informality Mademoiselle. My Lady would be angry if I allowed such a disrespect to someone like yourself. Mademoiselle,
you
have been chosen to enjoy the highest station in the Manor.”

“Me, what are you saying cook?”

“You are My Lady’s personal assistant. Everyone on the Estate has been advised of your position. We all understand that you may issue orders on behalf of Lady Julia. We are in your service as we are to her from this day on.”

I’m not sure why I did what I did next. Perhaps miffed by her rejection of my friendship or maybe a desire to test my power of her. All that I remember from that evening with Cook was that I found my next move to be - exhilarating.

“Then do as I instruct Cook. Place my meal on the table and arrange a proper place setting. While you’re at it, freshen my wine.” She bowed a silent consent.

“I am going to change into my evening robe. When I return I expect my dinner will be arrange so, and you will be gone. Furthermore Cook,” She made eye contact with me. “Starting with my breakfast in the morning. You may let yourself in quietly, leave it here on my table, properly set, and then let yourself out. Is that clear to you?”

“Yes Mademoiselle, thank you.” She whispered. “May I ask a favor?”

“Speak.”

“Please don’t tell Lady Julia that I accepted the wine from you. I beg you Mademoiselle, I am sorry for my bold behavior.”

I could see that Cook was truly frightened. I was enjoying her discomfort, so I felt quite wicked teasing the poor thing. “That will remain our little secret Cook, as long as you behave yourself. Now get along with my table setting.”

I turned on my heels and proceeded to the staircase. Behind me I could barely hear Cooks tiny voice. “Yes Mademoiselle. Thank you Mademoiselle.”

I slept soundly in my new home. My Lady’s sweet voice awoke me. It came from the speaker on my wall.

“Time to rise Miss Smith. Get dressed as have I instructed, then have your breakfast. I told Cook to set a tea placement on your garden table. Before our ride together we will discuss your agenda for the day over tea.”

The intercom went silent before I could speak. I rose from my bed. I stretched as I walked to my window. I yawned. There was a dull ache in my temples. The wine was a bit more than I was used to, but I was sure that a hot shower and some coffee would be a most welcome relief. I parted the curtains. It was still dark, however even at that predawn hour I could make out the silhouettes of the Manor buildings in the morning sky. I open the twin sash doors and leaned into the cool morning. It was so very quiet, not a bit like the din to which I awoke below my hotel window back in Bath where noisy Lorry’s rambled through the streets even at such an early hour as this. Horns sounded and delivery men hollered instructions to their fellow drivers. Here at Brighten Manor it was pure joy to hear the rhythmic sounds of the crickets and the first stirrings of the birds. Off in the distance I heard a rooster crow. The sweet smell of dew-covered heather drifted into my bed chamber. It was cool on my skin and invigorating.

I stepped forward, secured my balance by bracing my forearms on the balcony rail. I glanced to my left. The Manor house was but a mere fifty meters from my cottage. It rose from the earth and appeared an immense palace. The image of the summer Palace at Versailles flashed in my mind.