Escape From Ennui - A Gothic Romance (Chapters 1 & 2)

Escape From Ennui - A Gothic Romance1

Chapter One - An Elizabethan Masque2

Marianna DuChamps stood alone in the least populated corner of the ballroom silently bidding all about her to keep their distance. For the whole of the season she had felt a growing sense of ennui, a disconnectedness that was becoming ever more strong. However, nothing would excuse her absence from any of the Duke's 'little soirees', and so here she stood; alone and bored.3

The Duke, ever searching for new party ideas, had decreed this to be 'An Elizabethan Masque' an attempt to recreate 'The Golden Days of Albion' under the Virgin Queen; anything to forget the oppressive hypocrisy under Victoria. The young Queen had lost her consort and the nation had mourned, but mourning had slipped into an atmosphere that seemed to glorify pain and loss, casting disapprobation on those who would partake of joy. The Dukes constant group of toadies and arse lickers had applauded his daring; Marianna, however, felt that it simply confirmed the lack of originality inherent in Victorian nobility.4

A small ensemble, clad in ill-fitting hose and tunics, scraped their instruments as revellers danced the Pavane, processing up and down in their fake Elizabethan finery.5

At one end of the ballroom a fire roared in the massive stone hearth as a sweating servant turned a spit upon which were impaled three suckling pigs. Their skin crackled and spit in the flame, the stench causing the gorge to rise in Marianna’s throat. Beside the ostentatious fireplace was a long trestle, laden with the finest dishes of that bygone age. Meat enough there was to feed a whole village, delicate pies, large oval plates of cold cuts, massive haunches of every edible beast dripping with pungent sauces. Those not dancing crowded the trestle, devouring the food in a methodical, if soulless, manner. Marianna swallowed down her disgust and turned aside.6

Marianna gazed at the ornate brass timepiece standing on the mantle, willing time to pass. She had at least one more hour to endure. Sighing, she inspected her reflection in the mirror behind the intricate clock. Marianna was of classical appearance, something she took secret pride in, tall, slender, a face too angular to be beautiful, but too strong to be ignored. She had little in common with the examples of Victorian womanhood here displayed in all their soft plumpness. Her ash blonde hair was piled high upon her head, simply wound, no concession made to the ringlet infested confections worn by most gentleladies.7

A powdered and bewigged servant approached her, offering a tray piled high with all manner of sweetmeats; Marianna dismissed him with a frown and turned away. As she did so, the dance ended and the ensemble began to play a Galliard, Marianna sighed once more 'Is nothing new?' she thought 'Whatever happened to originality?'8

And then, almost imperceptibly, something changed. The dancers continued their manoeuvres, but the music no longer seemed to intrude into Marianna’s reverie as it had before. Out of the corner of her eye Marianna saw a flicker, a grey shadow that seemed to flit between the dancers. It was almost as if time itself were slowing, the dancers movements were becoming more exaggerated, their progress measured as if they were dolls being placed first in one position next in another.9

The shadow continued to flit and then paused, taking on corporeal form. Marianna gasped, standing there, not three yards away, was a man; tall, impossibly thin, his leather raiment of black and charcoal seemingly a part of him.10

He stepped forward, gliding, and bowed low before her, his sweeping arm almost brushing the floor. Standing, he let his gaze roam over Marianna’s body, his eyes glinting insolently. A frisson of excitement ran through her, something rare in these days of endless, pointless, parties. Marianna could not breathe, her chest felt as if two giant hands were squeezing, squeezing.11

Silently, the man offered his hand and, without a thought, Marianna accepted. She was guided onto the floor, his hands commanding.12

Between party guests, now almost still to Marianna’s eyes, the couple whirled; spinning faster and ever faster. The music faded into silence, but still they danced as an ethereal mist began to gather around them. The walls of the ballroom took on a strange translucence, and then disappeared altogether. The revellers became smoke and were gone. All that remained in the mist were the whirling dancers and the gilded doorway of the ballroom.13

Slowing, the man's hands slipped from Marianna’s body and he lightly took her fingers in his. He looked deep into her eyes, pellucid grey pools drawing her forth she knew not where.14

Nothing more remained. Simply two people in the void.15

“Come” he whispered.16

She followed.17

Chapter Two - The Aerie18

As the two stepped forth, they crossed some fey threshold and were standing upon a broad balcony of black granite. Marianna gasped and looked about her. They appeared to be high upon the side of a mountain, in the distance silver beams of moonlight glinted on snow capped peaks. She turned and saw the forbidding bulk of the castle in which they stood; its towering parapets discernable only as a deeper black against the night sky.19

"Welcome to my Aerie" said the man in tones of velvet.20

"Where is this place?" whispered Marianna.21

"Far from Albion, yet Albion still" replied the man cryptically. "You are now in my realm, my domain."22

Marianna gave no thought to protest. Somehow she knew that this was truly where her destiny lay.23

"Come" said the man, and once more she followed.24

Walking into the room, Marianna’s jaw dropped; while she was no stranger to the homes of the nobility she had never seen such opulence. Massive couches of blood red leather were arranged in a square at the centre of the room, each piled high with white furs and attended by small, low, tables. In the corners were wrought iron stands in which aromatic oils burned. The floors shone darkly as if they were mirrors made of cold black marble flecked with silver. The walls were of the same black granite as the castle proper, draped with silken hangings of dark hue. It was as if the room were a pit, luxurious to be sure, but with a dark atmosphere. One last thing drew Marianna’s eyes; on the wall opposite her was a cross, two deep red beams of wood formed an X, eight foot tall and massive. At each point of the cross hung silver chains, each chain ending in a silver manacle.25

"My God!" exclaimed Marianna. "Are you a devotee of De Sade!"26

The strange man laughed "De Sade? That neophyte? He had the subtlety of an abattoir worker!"27

Marianna shuddered at the words of her companion, but, deep inside her, a thrill of anticipation flickered.28

Finally, perhaps too late, Marianna asked the questions most would have blurted out long before; “Who are you, and why have you brought me here?”29

The man smiled, his eyes hooded; “My name is Amdahllian; I am the Lord of this Castle. As to why I have brought you here ... I saw in you something; a need for experiences of more note than the inconsequential parties such as that Masque of the Dukes. Was I correct?”30

Marianna dropped her eyes “What sort of experiences?”31

“Pleasures. Pleasures for which there are no words in English. Pleasures of flesh tormented.”32

Marianna blushed; her face hot, the scarlet flowing down her neck and disappearing beneath the gold brocade at her bosom.33

“I ... I don’t know ... I am no libertine.”34

Amdahllian laughed cruelly “Perhaps not. But I am!”35

Marianna knew not what to say, her head remained bowed.36

“So ... you do not refuse me out of hand?” asked Amdahllian.37

“I do not …”38

“Then remove that ridiculous costume.”39

Marianna gasped, ‘How could he be so forward?’ She stood, unable to move.40

“You refuse?”41

Marianna shook her head and, with trembling hands, began to undo the small mother-of-pearl buttons running down her back. Shrugging her shoulders she allowed the dress to fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Standing in just corset, loose linen drawers, and fine silken hose, Marianna felt as vulnerable as a child.42

“Your underthings too.”43

Marianna could hardly move; her legs almost unable to support her weight. With an explosive sigh she reached behind herself and managed to undo the bow at the top of her corset. Wriggling she was able to loosen the lacing and the corset slid down her body, leaving her naked from the waist up. Her pale skin was marked by pink striations as the blood returned to areas that were formally constricted. Marianna’s light pink nipples were hard and erect, silent testament to the excitement flowing through her, knowing this she blushed even more. Her fumbling fingers moved down to her thighs to unlace the tops of her hose, the silk slid down her slender legs to pool at her feet. Finally, she pushed down her drawers, letting them join the hose. Marianna stood, one leg slightly bent, surrounded by discarded clothes, looking like nothing other than Botticelli’s Venus. 44

“Now kneel.”45

Somehow, being naked before a virtual stranger dispelled any remaining inhibitions that may have lingered in Marianna’s thoughts. Without a qualm she dropped to her knees, her head held down in a natural position of submission.46

“Very good” praised Amdahllian.47

The strange man walked over to one of the low tables beside the couches and picked up a collar. It was made of black leather, inlaid with studs of steel. Leaning over Marianna’s kneeling form, Amdahllian whispered “For the time that you wear my collar I am your Master, you my property. You must do my bidding, without question. You will be free only when I remove this collar. Do you understand? Do you assent?”48

Marianna, her heart in her throat, croaked “I do!”49

Amdahllian placed the collar around Marianna’s neck, pulled it snug and clipped a padlock into two steel rings, the cold lock resting on the nape of Marianna’s fevered neck. Stepping back he appreciated the beauty of the tableau for a moment and then issued a command.50

“Stand.”51

Marianna did.52

“Move to the cross.”53

With a mix of trepidation and anticipation, Marianna complied.54

Amdahllian gently took Marianna’s right hand, raised it, and placed a silver shackle about her wrist, snapping it shut. He repeated this with her left wrist. Bending low, he took hold of her right foot, easing it out to the side to be secured in its own shackle. Again, he repeated the operation with her left leg. Marianna was now standing spread-eagled against the cross, her lightly furred sex was open, her juices beginning to dew her nether lips.55

Marianna stood waiting for what seemed an eternity, then, without warning, a lightning bolt of pain exploded across her back. As the whip bit she screamed. Again the whip struck and again she cried out, her voice raw with pain. A rhythm began to build, one ... two ... three ... crack! ... one ... two ... three ... crack! With each stroke of the whip Marianna's body jerked, the shackles biting into her ankles and wrists. And yet, slowly the rhythm took over; the pain was still there, but now more noticeable as a counterpoint to the absences. Inexorably her mind was drawn inward, feeling the whip, cherishing its caress.56

Marianna drifted, her mind in some strange place where pain was transformed, not into pleasure, but to something she had never experienced before; fulfilment. Every time Amdahllian’s whip bit into her back an electric thrill ran through her body. Her soft skin was sensitive to everything, not just the whip, the very breeze drifting in from the balcony sent thrills down Marianna’s spine, taking her breath away.57

Marianna continued to drift, not realising that Amdahllian had put down the whip. The first she knew was when she felt his fingers running down her naked back. His nails ran down across the welts on her tortured skin and she gasped. Amdahllian’s fingers moved lower, scratching over her hips and down across her buttocks. Lower still they travelled and underneath. Marianna squealed as Amdahllian’s fingers slipped inside her dripping vagina, probing deeper and deeper. His nails scratched the soft sensitive skin inside and she screamed as an orgasm ripped through her body. Wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure flowed through Marianna and her legs lost all power. Hanging by her wrists her head fell forward and she moaned.58

Just as Marianna began to come back to herself she felt Amdahllian’s fingers sliding out of her to be replaced by something larger. His hands gripped her waist as he thrust his hard member deep into her. Slowly Amdahllian withdrew and then rammed home again, deep into her wet and slippery vagina. Moaning incoherently she hung from the silver chains pushing back against Amdahllian, shuddering as she felt the black leather of his trousers raking against the soft skin of the back of her thighs. Faster and faster he thrust, each time the tip of his member nudging her cervix, sending Marianna into paroxysms of ecstasy. Finally, with one last thrust, Amdahllian shot his hot semen deep into her belly. Marianna screamed and knew no more.59

Marianna knew not how long it was before she awoke. When she did, she was lying on the blood red leather of a couch, her drained body covered with a pure white fur. Groaning she sat up and felt her wrists, rubbed raw by the silver shackles. Amdahllian was sitting on the next couch.60

“At last you are awake.” Amdahllian arose, picked up a goblet of wine and passed it to Marianne.61

Marianna gratefully took the goblet and sipped it.62

“How long did I sleep?”63

“Perhaps an hour, maybe a little more. Once you are restored I will show you more of the castle.64

Marianna drained her goblet, eager to learn more, to experience more, to live at last.65

To be continued ... 66