Title: Tentant Destinée
Summary:So many ways for the Marquis de Sade to land himself in the asylum. And this was one.
Completed:October 7, 2003
Notes:The title means Tempting Fate in French.
"Render others as happy as one desires oneself to be,
and never inflict more pain upon them
than one would like to receive at their hands"
~ The Marquis de Sade
"Everything is erotic if one feels it properly," the Marquis whispered into her ear.
The chambermaid shivered under his hot, sticky voice. The unfortunate girl had taken a position at the chateau La Coste, ignoring the mounting rumours circulating throughout France about her employer's devious activities. She just saw the welcome prospect of an income.
But unfortunate depends on whose bed one is chained to, doesn't it?
"Please Monsieur," the young girl bowed away from her master. She was polite and demure – she would not anger her employer and risk poverty.
Promptly she busied herself with laying out fresh lines on the bed. Strange stains always appeared on the crisp cloth from the master's den.
"Mademoiselle?" he stood behind her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
The Marquis had persuaded the young servant relentlessly the moment she stepped into the dim room. His heated words and inviting caresses were intriguing to the girl. She had heard wild tales of his sexual prowess. But the watchful eyes from the valet Latour, in the room's corner, his loyal vigil, made her uneasy.
Sade stroked again, and added a hand firmly on her hip, pulling the girl's rear against his groin.
She leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed.
A thin smile spread on the Marquis' pale face. It was a long, cold winter and he longed for a warm body and playmate. Renee had gone to her mother's, taking the children. That left him alone with Latour, and his own devices. Quill and inkwell will only entertain for so long.
"Do you not wish to experience all sensation?" his breath was in her ear again and his hand moving along her flowing skirt.
A whimpering sigh came from the submitting girl. Her curious arousal sent a pink flush over her exposed skin and a growing flutter through her body. She agreed.
The Marquis nodded to his faithful Latour, pleased. He turned the girl to face him, "Parfait, mon jouet."
He slipped out of his dressing coat, carefully lying in on the chair.
The girl pursed her dry lips: a nervous anticipation.
He began unbuttoning the silk shirt and slinking it off to place on the chair with the coat. All delicate motions- for now.
The girl stared in wide-eyed wonder as her master stripped down halfway naked in front of her.
Latour appeared at his friend's side, an instrument clasped in his hand and gold case held out. He waited.
Sade smiled to the child, taking her hands carefully in his. He had his valet offer her a pastilles, which the Marquis fed to her, placing the small disk between her lips. The chambermaid swallowed, her head already swimming and knees weak.
He held his hand out to the valet, who passed along the prized possession.
"Dit?" he rubbed the top of the girl's hand with his thumb.
She nodded, slow and bewildered.
In a slow, steady motion he placed the handle into her waiting hand. The cool leather bounded on the handle of the cat of nine tails stung her heated flesh.
The girl stared up at him with frightened eyes. Was this instrument of punishment to be used?
Locking eyes with her, the Marquis de Sade nodded.
A/N: "Parfait, mon jouet" means "Perfect, my plaything." "Dit" means ready or set.
I've recently become a little taken by the Marquis, so I thought I would play with him a little.