She and a number of the others were then being led into small alcoves across the courtyard and directly adjacent to the pool. The doorframes were arched, simple wood, and without ornamentation. Rather than doors at all, within these frames were hung thin linen sheets blowing softly in the morning breeze.
Amelia was directed towards one specific alcove by her attendants, and she peered inside to find nothing but a small wooden table wrapped in layers of vermillion cloth. It smelled strongly of rose hips and jasmine, and the source was a small porcelain incense burner, sitting on a shelf in the corner, its tiny wisp of smoke drifting lazily toward the ceiling. She felt some trepidation to enter the room, but her curiosity had now gotten the better of her. After the enjoyable bathing experience she was interested in what came next, fascinated with the purpose behind all of this strangeness. Things had gone quite well so far this morning, and besides, rarely had two women seemed so harmless as did these old souls. When the women encouraged her to come into the room and lie face down on the table she did as she was told without hesitation.
She felt the old woman’s seasoned hands in her hair, pulling and twisting her blond tresses into small braids. In these she skillfully wove many purple fragrant flowers and grasses, tying them tightly behind Amelia’s head, and coating the braids in shiny beeswax to make them gloss. Finally she placed sprigs of green leaves here and there, until Amelia felt she must look like the pixies she had read about as a child.
Once this was completed they immediately set upon her with their hands, massaging her back shoulders and legs, kneading her freshly scrubbed flesh. The sensation was deeply satisfying and Amelia was glad that she hadn’t resisted. They began to apply heated oils, some poured into their hands, and others they drizzled directly onto her body. The warm oils exuded lavender, rose, and thistle, intoxicating and hypnotic with their scent. In addition to these, there were also cooler oils, viscously rubbed into her neck and behind her ears, their essence impossibly complex, thicker and tinged with honey. In these she could also smell the same scents as the surrounding fields, fragrant heather, sweet clover, and alba flowers bursting with morning dew, and even more subtly, hints of the deep green peat, giving up its perfume as it does in the light of the afternoon sun. How had these been created, such oils? They had captured the very breeze itself as it rolled across the moors on a sunny day.
They rolled Amelia onto her back and continued their attentions on her stomach, her throat, her breasts; making sure her skin was saturated. They poured a small pool in her belly button, overfilling it and letting it run down her sides in small rivulets. They rubbed the lavender oil through the small patch of hair between her legs, causing her to gasp and arch her back, yet they continued on with purpose, almost holy in their ministrations, running their fingers gently over the mound, and through the triangle of fine, delicate golden hairs that lay upon it. She squeezed her thighs together to hide the feeling of arousal that had overcome her, but this was to no avail. The determined old women merely pulled her legs apart, plying and twisting the tender muscles of her inner thighs. Curiously, they declined to massage her sex directly, but simply strayed everywhere near it, likewise stroking and tugging her small breasts with their skilled hands, avoiding the nipples yet making sure to rub the oils deeply into the soft flesh. Their actions were therapeutic and sensual, intent on bring pleasure, yet not overtly sexual. This was most tortuous, raising Amelia’s pulse, and setting her into a fever. She was impelled to focus directly on her body, bolts of delight discharging from wherever they placed their hands. Her state of arousal had become almost unbearable, a storm of desire she could not assuage. The urge to stroke herself was almost painful, and she felt her body quivering under each touch. Finally, they ceased their massage, the old women kissing her hands and feet delicately, and muttering in a language she couldn’t understand. She was allowed to regain her feet. She felt libidinous and lightheaded, and her body ached deep inside for an as yet unnamed pleasure.
“And just how are my little creatures doing this morning?” Ms. Farstone appeared exceptionally energetic and evil as she sashayed back and forth across the cobblestones.
The group had gathered together in the courtyard after the morning massage; all of the girls in Amelia’s stall, as well as 20 or 30 other girls that she had never seen before. Apparently there were many servants here in various stages of training. It was easy to tell the groups that had been here longer, as they looked toned and natural, their skin tanned and glowing, their muscles smooth and taught. In fact, Amelia thought they looked just like the goddesses that were carved in marble standing next to the pool, each of them with their hair woven in different, unique patterns, with entirely original flowers and plants intertwined and fresh. The girls had whispered that it was the style of one’s trio of attendants that determined the pattern.
Apparently everyone’s attendants weren’t as mute as Amelia’s and many of the girls had been talking. They were whispering that these rituals happened each day, the bathing and massage, even exercise and contests. Apparently there were good trios and bad, and every trio had their own oils, their own flowers, their own rituals- and their own girls whom they prepared. One’s trio meant the difference between success and failure here in the stables and towards many things Amelia’s group hadn’t even encountered yet.
It seemed impossible to Amelia that so much effort could be expended over so lowly a group of servants, but then again very little had made sense to her since arriving at Hinterlands, from the first depraved dinner service to her experience with the beautiful Duchessa in her bedchamber. All seemed too strange and unreal to comprehend, and yet here she was, a young girl from St Giles, standing here naked amongst a group of forty or so young women, thoroughly oiled and pampered, her hair decorated with the most beautiful patterns of braids and flowers, glistening in the sunlight. How many servants had undergone this training, Amelia wondered?
“You look good enough to eat my lovelies. I think some of you are far too spoiled.” Ms. Farstone paused to look at one amazingly tall and beautiful woman with brilliant black hair that was standing confident and strong. The hair lay in one single, long, French-braid over the girl’s ivory shoulder. A white Calla lily was woven tightly behind her ear. Her smooth curves looked amazingly strong and healthy to Amelia, and her dark eyes practically glowed against her perfectly creamy skin. In fact, Amelia had never seen such a healthy-looking a young woman in her entire life. She appeared to be the goddess Diana incarnate. Her beauty and confidence seemed to anger Ms. Farstone.
“Ms. Eleros. Are you enjoying your time here?” She hissed, fiercely looking the girl directly in the eye.
“Most assuredly Ma’am.” Amelia could swear she saw a slight smile playing across the girls face.
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that won’t we?” These words were delivered so quietly scarcely anyone could hear them, but the sheer menace in the woman’s voice was unmistakable. She glared at Ms. Eleros for another moment before turning away. Amelia was stunned by the girl’s poise. She looked fearless and strong, and her comportment reminded her of Enza—Enza who seemed a world away. This girl was obviously just like Enza; a person that those in power couldn’t really control, no matter their station in life. Amelia decided then and there she would have to find out everything she could about this girl with the Calla lily in her hair.
“Well! Since some of you apparently don’t know your place here yet, we are going to have an exceptionally rough afternoon. To the dining hall girls.”
The girls who had been in the stables the longest knew just what to do and they immediately scrambled to line up outside a massive set of doors that led into the stables. Feeling suddenly ravenous, Amelia and the others followed suit, jockeying for the best position into the dining hall. Even though the wind had been blowing away from them, Amelia could still smell the feint odors of roasting meats, and baking pastries, amidst the myriad fragrances of the other girls gathered around; fragrances tha
t had been deftly applied and massaged into their respective skins to exude specific odors. Each of them was relaxed and loose, thoroughly rubbed down and pampered in their own fashion by their own trio of attendants, attendants who seemed to have prepared their girls uniquely for what lay ahead.
Molly Jenkins had her red hair in two thick braids that tied behind her head before falling down her back. Her flower was apparently the daisy, planted twice amongst her scarlet braids. Perhaps it was simply her state of arousal, but Molly looked quite lovely for the first time in Amelia’s eyes. Her skin was shiny and brilliant in the sunlight and her nipples stood out erect, small and pink. Surely, she was still skinny and awkward, yet girlish and pretty when she wasn’t talking. Amelia hadn’t forgotten that she had helped keep her warm this past night embracing her and cuddling close, and they both smiled at each other briefly before abashedly looking away.
Amelia watched the more senior girls talking to one another, noticed the way they gazed at one another’s bodies openly, touching eachother’s shoulders and chatting offhandedly. They seemed to not care about the nudity, perhaps had even grown immune to it. But beyond this they also seem to gather about one another, brushing up against each other with a familiarity that made Amelia blush. She watched them hold hands, and pat each other on the backside. This was in stark contrast to the manner in which her small group of women still regarded one other. Perhaps this would change with time.
All of these thoughts and ruminations were quickly lost in the face of an impending meal however, and Amelia felt her stomach growl hungrily in anticipation. She hadn’t eaten since the previous morning’s breakfast at Hinterlands, and she hadn’t realized until that moment how weak from hunger she truly was.
They eagerly entered the dining hall, wholly ignoring the vast soaring ceilings and rows of towering cathedral-like windows; windows that looked out upon the lush green valley below, and the swirling river gouging its way through the white chalk canyon, and distant hilltops spattered with groves of aging Ash, Oak and Poplar. They also didn’t see, or care to see, the iron chandelier, bedecked with a hundred wax candles hanging high above them and flickering in the airy space like some scattering of iridescent stars. These things bore no importance to the girls, as they gazed out at the smorgasbord laid out on split-plank wooden tables trailing off into the distance.
Silver trays of French pastries smiled at them, pastries filled with nuts and cinnamon and drizzled in fresh honey that had been gathered from hives that sat nestled upon the rolling hills surround the great house. Great silver pots of tea steamed here and there amongst hundreds of little dishes, each containing various jams, jellies marmalades and preserves. Puddings, both black and white, great heaping mounds porridge and bacon, fresh sliced ham with berry sauce, boiled tomatoes and steamed mushrooms; these all dazzled their eyes, and overwhelmed the girls’ senses. Amelia sat down in a frenzy to eat, buttering large pieces of cinnamon bread and stuffing them into her mouth. She washed this down with an overfilled cup of tea splashing it down her chin. Without even wiping it off, she immediately devoured two warm pieces of bacon, feeling their grease begin to restore her energy. The other girls did the same, eating the food ravenously, staring at each other in amazement as they consumed sumptuous dishes that seemed to have been laid out for nobility.
This went on for no more than 15 minutes before Ms. Farstone announced that breakfast was complete. Many of the new girls stuffed bread into their mouths in horror, afraid that they would never encounter such opulence ever again. Amelia noticed the more senior girls simply leaving-off, however, and she had an inkling that meals like this were typical here, as unbelievable as this seemed.
The girls were ushered out of the dining hall and deeper into the stables away from the courtyard. Many of them chattered good-naturedly. They were a much larger group now, and their own odors were divine and pleasurable to experience, overpowering even. The flowers, food and oils mixed together to create a virtual cloud of loveliness, and cheer that seemed to infect all the girls, causing them to smile and laugh comfortably. In this state they were all lovely to behold to Amelia, despite their nakedness, or even perhaps because of it. She herself felt a sense of elation as the food warmed her soul and she considered that her plight here in the stables was perhaps not so bad as she had initially feared. Poor Kitt had been mistakenly frightened, she reasoned. There was no danger thus far, unless one considered immodesty a danger, and indeed many did. The notion of walking around unclothed in this place leant a certain pervasive awkwardness for sure, at least for the time being. Regrettably, there simply was nothing they could do about that.
They emerged once again into the sunlight, only this time they were outside the stables. A vast green field stretched out before them hundreds of yards in each direction. They could see luxuriantly tended green lawns, fading into rolling green hills far in the distance that were dappled with patches of forest and rocky outcrops. Amelia couldn’t imagine a more beautiful vista. It was something out of a painting.
Ms. Farstone emerged from the door behind them and called out nonchalantly. “What a lovely morning! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I can’t think of anything that would be nicer than a little run? Can you Mr. Stephen?
“Indeed I cannot Ms. Farstone!” Mr. Stephen’s voice shocked a number of them. No one had expected him to be here. Some of the girls covered their nakedness instinctively. The graying old man had been standing by the corner of the building languidly smoking his tobacco pipe. Taking a long slow drag and blowing the smoke up into the air he continued speaking. “I think no less than 20 laps are in order, don’t you?”
“Certainly! And the chamber for the winner then?” She asked grinning.
“Oh, I’d say the chamber for the first two Ms. Farstone. It’s such a beautiful morning.”
“Okay then. Mr. Stephen has set the rules. 20 laps girls. Don’t be shy. Let’s put you through your paces.”
With this, the vast majority of the young women bolted off into the open field settling into a long easy gait. Amelia’s group of seven stood around momentarily, disoriented before they realized they had been left behind and were meant to follow the others. Amelia started jogging along then, deciding she had better not stay behind. The initial sensation was thrilling, and she found herself enjoying the feeling of the soft green lawn on her feet, the soft breeze blowing, and the sun shining down on her oiled skin.
The other girls were far ahead and running fast, some were very tanned and seemed natural in their step, while others were paler and not so fast. Amelia could see Ms. Eleros, the girl from the courtyard, easily leading the pack by twenty yards. Her lithe form was running smoothly and she climbed the first grass hill as if it were nothing and began to descend the other side out of sight. The rest of them followed suit and Amelia trailed behind. She knew that she would have to pace herself or she would tire soon. She glanced over her shoulder to see the others bringing up the rear, jogging along as fast as their legs would carry them. For some reason she knew it wasn’t going to be a good thing to finish last, so she pushed forward, struggling to catch the main group.
She could see they were on a well-worn path through the grass. It looked as though it received daily use. Amelia was mystified by this. Did they run every day? As she rounded the top of the modest grass hill she realized that she had made up significant ground on the others and now was only 20 or 30 yards behind them. They were heading down the slope toward a small distant group of trees and as they arrived were rounding them quickly, tearing off back toward the stables. It was a small patch of Oaks, and Amelia turned round them in a flash, sprinting hard back into the other direction.
She actually was beginning to feel comfortable and natural without any skirts to inhibit her legs. This must be what it feels like to run like a man, she thought to herself, and began to feel how silly it was to be so encumbered by skirts all the time.
After her first lap she finally caught-up with the main group and began
to pace them. They glanced at the newcomer nervously. The collective sound of their feet pattered softly in the grass in an even cadence, like a herd of rabbits. As for Amelia, her slender legs ached and her lungs were burning, yet she was determined now to catch Ms. Eleros, even entertaining the possibility of beating her. The scented wax in her hair was melting in the afternoon sun, and beginning to drip down her back in a mixture of sweat and perfume.
As she inched passed the main group, she realized she was quite good at this running business, enjoying the feeling of her heart pounding in her chest. They leapt over a thick log and sprinted past a carriage that Amelia hadn’t noticed the first lap. It was parked right next to the path. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she spied a pair of eyes peering out of the curtained window at they careened past. The path looped around and took them right past the stable entrance once again. Amelia was a short distance behind Ms. Eleros, her skin saturated and running freely. She took great pleasure in the look of utter shock that lay upon the faces of Ms. Farstone and Mr. Stephen as she sprinted past and she could see them talking nervously together.
She increased her tempo, slowly making up ground on Ms. Eleros, stretching her legs into long graceful strides and pumping her arms hard. They rounded the hill once more, then the grove of trees, and back past the carriage. The race had become a blur and all Amelia could do was place one foot in front of the other, thinking of her sisters, thinking of home, thinking a hundred things. She no longer noticed either Ms. Farstone or Mr. Stephen, focusing entirely on catching Ms. Eleros.
She was twenty steps behind. Ten.
She surged to pull neck and neck with the leader and she was filled with wild ebullience, as she saw the path ahead open up before her empty for the first time. The girl turned to look at Amelia with a grin, the lily hanging limply from her braid.
Hinterlands Book II: The Stables Page 3
