Eleven

WHEN THE KNOCK finally came and the same servant called to take her to the upper hall where the Baron was waiting for her, Adalene jumped like a frightened goose. She felt so on edge.
Do not think. The day will pass and you will survive this, she told her wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. It cannot be as bad as when you and your cousins faced that boar in the woods and you were so frightened for your life. Or... or if you are right now in Louis’ chamber and you are suffering from the touch of his probing hands and the terrible smell of his rotten teeth!
As if she was running away from something terrible from the room, she bade the servant to enter at once. There was only the youngest one, Juliet. She determinedly faced her, shy but sure about what she wanted to know.
“Juliet, I need to ask you something.”
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” she replied, and the gently teasing smile on her face told her Juliet knew what she was about to ask.
Her face warmed up but it didn’t stop her from asking. “Have you ever been with a man?”
At that, the young maid smiled more coyly than teasingly. “What did you want to know?”
“Uh... just that... what do men expect from a woman when... see... when they are meeting so they can be... do... the one that a husband and wife do on their wedding night?”
She was clearly trying not to laugh. “Not just on the wedding night.”
She lowered her flaming face. “I know.”
Juliet gathered herself together and replied soberly this time. “If it was the first night, the husband really does not expect anything from you aside from you, see, lay there and... let them do what they must.”
She nodded, watching Juliet’s face intently. “Something more than that. What can I do aside from... kissing... him... that will make him... like... what we’re doing... in his bed.”
Juliet was again trying not to laugh.
“You must know what I mean!” she added, breathlessly.
She was nodding before Elise could finish speaking, ready to give her the answers she was looking for. She talked about where to touch him and what positions she should expect, where he would touch her and how it would probably feel. She talked about how she would get more soaked if he did it right - which Juliet expected he would! And she did, too, of course. And that she would feel pain as it was the first time, but Juliet was confident that The Baron would play first and would get her aroused so well the pain would be worth it. All this she did while making sure everything ribbon and lace and strands of hair were in place.
It really took a short time for her to acquire what she needed to learn from Juliet, but it still felt like she needed more advice.
“Please do not worry much about it. The Baron is a handsome, virile and very experienced man. He will not do anything to upset or hurt you.” Then, Juliet took a deep breath, and moaned. “If you only knew how much I envy you!”
Soon, she was walking towards the hall with her while hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. There was a lower hall and an upper hall, and they were going to dine in the upper hall, which was larger, Juliet explained. Her peasant home only had a small kitchen where they did both cooking and dining. This hall alone was far larger than the whole entirety of her parents’ house and the land it was standing on, that place that was not her home anymore.
The thought made her sad so suddenly that she stumbled, and then a hand was holding her arm.
When she looked up, there was the Baron.
“Mon Seigneur !” she exclaimed. Then she remembered what she and Juliet had discussed in her room and her face instantly felt very hot.
“Are you alright?” he asked in his low baritone.
She gulped as she felt a tickle of pleasure trickling down her spine from where he held her. He had such a melodious, husky voice, and its vibration gave her body pleasure. She did not realize how she liked a voice like that until now. “Y-Yes. I’m sorry, I did not mean to trip. There is nothing wrong with your floor, it’s just that I-”
“There is nothing wrong with my floor,” he repeated. A few lines appeared on both sides of his eyes, as if he was about to laugh but managed not to. She knew him to be about thirty-five. He must often smile a lot to have laugh lines appearing on his face already. “Perhaps you should hold on to me more tightly so we can reach the dining table without harm?”
He took her hand in his and securely wrapped it around his arm. Juliet wasn’t by her side anymore, and she knew she would be following behind them discreetly. It felt uncomfortable because it was not something she was used to, but she knew enough by now not to look back at her to see that she was alright.
“There,” the Baron said, and she walked beside him until they reached their destination. He led her to a seat at the end of the longest dining table she had seen. Its length, she believed, was longer than the width of the kitchen and living room together in her parents’ cottage. She let his arm go as he moved to pull the chair from the table so she could sit. Then he instructed the maidservants to attend to her, and then she watched in dismay as he walked the length of the long table again to seat himself at the other end.
Soon, the dishes were brought out. The marvelous smell of roast beef, baked bread and vegetables in their steamy sauces made her mouth water. She did not realize she was so hungry. Rich red wine was poured in elegant glasses, and hers tasted tangy and sweet. It also helped settle her nerves as she started to eat.
She was about used to the feeling that she was eating alone when the Baron suddenly talked. She almost jumped. He did it in a loud voice, for indeed, he was far away enough that it would be hard for her to hear him clearly if he had talked normally.
But the Baron noticed, and again, was amused.
“I’m sorry to startle you, but if there is anything else that you need, I hope you will let the servants know. You are a guest in my manor and I want you to be as comfortable as you can possibly be. Do you understand what I am saying, Adalene?”
He asked for her name while they rode towards the chateau. Since then, he had called her by her first name, though she could still remember his tender tone and his soft voice when he first called her ma bichette.
Or his hoarse, aroused voice when he addressed her in between kisses on the riverbank.
She still would feel warm whenever she remembered the incident, as if she was in a wet dream. As she stared at him from where he was, she realized he was waiting for an answer and she gathered herself together and nodded.
“Oui,” she said. But it seemed such a small voice in the big hall that she did it again, louder this time. “Oui!”
She cringed as her loud voice echoed in the chamber. It felt like warmth left her face as she looked around, feeling embarrassed when no one else was there but the two of them.
But the Baron smiled, and blood was suffusing her cheeks again, so that it must look like there were torches on those two spots on her face.
“B-Baron. M-Mon seigneur, I mean.”
“Oui?”
“I mean, yes, my Lord. My... my Baron. I was... I will speak up if I need anything.”
He nodded, smiling, and graciously told her to continue enjoying her food with a gesture. She lowered her eyes – and hopefully hid her cheeks – back to her plate.
They continued with dinner, and it was quiet again but the sounds made by the cutleries. It was making her more and more uncomfortable, because it sounded like she was making more noise than he was. When she tried to steal a look, he was frowning a bit, like he was thinking about something.
She was thinking, too. She did want something. Could she dare ask it of him?
He was going to be the man to deflower her. She hoped to know a little more about him... more than the knowledge that she had liked it very much when the man had licked her between her thighs like a dog.
But how do you ask something like that more delicately, when she had to shout it out so he could hear her?
How could she even dare ask when the whole manor would hear her?!