La vérité d'une femmebymejau71©
It was the spring of the year 1773, and the blossoms of the lilies had never looked so ravishing to the fresh and vigorous woman of 21 years, Miss Katherine Richardson. Having just established their new domicile in New England, life had begun to possess all the riches the New World promised. Katherine was the only child, with her being the only female of the Richardson's descendants. Her family had moved to the New World two years prior to the spring, and had purchased a vast amount of land thirty miles beyond the flourishing city of Boston.
A secure English upbringing, Miss Katherine had all the comforts of a plush lifestyle. Their home was of elegant features as Katherine's father had it constructed while still residing in England. Their status within the social circles of England, and the New World was highly respected throughout the countryside. Sir George Richardson III was advised by the English parliament to reestablish his domestic arrangement in the New World to help garner patronage for England's dwindling shipping industry. England needed all the assistance She could garner since talk of revolution began taking root. Sir George III was the trusted Nobleman who would ensure that his Royal Highness would retain the most profitable ports within Boston harbor.
Resembling her mother Victoria in several physical facets, Katherine inherited Victoria's well-proportioned outline, as well as a steady beige hue to her skin throughout the year. Her lengthy hair now hung passed the lower half of her back, and held a rich mahogany texture to each thick strand. Her lovely face still contained the fleshy plumpness of youth, filling out her jawbone and jowl quite respectfully. Yet her neckline matured increasingly well during the last year as her features were falling into form. Victoria often gazed at her daughter with esteemed pride, often recalling the days when youth coursed through her veins. Her luminescence sapphire eyes were obviously inherited from her father, along with teeming lips that trickled with an unspoken charm. These were the very features that enchanted Victoria during her fleeting courtship with George. Now it was as if those very eyes and delectable lips were once again beckoning Victoria... Only this time, those libidinous features belonged to the physique of a ripe and angelic female... Katherine.
Victoria was of welsh decent, and quite modest in character. Being the ever so humble wife of a respected Nobleman such as Sir George III came at an expense. Her well-endowed womanly attributes were often concealed in large, insignificant dresses... constantly at the grating request of Sir George III, that is. Covetousness seemed to be a niche in his seemingly impregnable armor, never allowing his shameful flaw to be exposed at any time.
Sir George III intermingled with (at times) a questionable crowd, and to display his exquisite spouse would present a potential risk to their fidelity as man and wife. His wife Victoria sincerely felt this as justifiable treatment since a woman's place in society (especially a wedded woman) was by her husband's side, no matter what the circumstances might entail. Her dreams, aspirations, and desires of the heart were sadly left to be swept away in the indifferent winds of the New World. At just 34 years of age, Victoria perceived the best years of her life well behind her.
Katherine was encountering some rather tedious moments as she adjusted to her new life in the countryside of Massachusetts. Everything that she had come to treasure in her old life was slowly dissolved over the course of their three-month journey to the colonies. Every night, she faithfully transcribed her fragile emotions onto the leather bound journal her Mother had given her as a Christmas present. "Full moon, 18 of May. Four weeks into my new domicile, and my heart desperately yearns for the familiar, melodious ambience of Middlesex. The days are unbearably lengthy, with the nights even worse. The bureaucratic festivities Father devises are all I have to anticipate. The lavish gatherings are laced with mindless talk, and a most vulgar stench of tobacco.
Only then, if fate is fortuitous, I might be presented with a fair daughter of one of the bureaucrats so that a conversation might ensue. That is my moment where the heart throbs with unquestionable delight. It is during these blissful moments that my thoughts travel outward, across the ghastly waters of the Atlantic, to Middlesex, curious as to how Lady Georgianne is faring. My heart bleeds with rapport at this very moment, and it is only in her divine presence that a cure can be identified for the mysterious ailment that seems to plague my indifferent heart. Are her thoughts basking in the tepid warmth of Miss Katherine Avonlea Richardson at this very moment?
Lady Georgianne, a handsome, widowed Duchess was Miss Katherine's closest acquaintance in Middlesex. They held a deep association with one another since Katherine's seventh year. At times, Miss Katherine often felt resonant deference within her confidant, disclosing details of her everyday life, as well as the innermost behavior of the heart. This rapport left an unsettled sentiment deep within the core of Katherine's consciousness. Being torn from her life in Middlesex, as well as her delicate affiliation with Lady Georgianne scarred Katherine deeply. And it was during these trying moments that Katherine yearned for her warm shoulder to weep her worries upon.
Her only means of escape from the preclusive home life was taking her leisurely afternoon strolls, which took Katherine through the rolling countryside of New England. These were the moments that she became aquatinted with a joy and delight never known before. The sunlight, much more resplendent than England's, captivated the lovely mistress's senses. The way the wind caressed the trees with it's slow, delicate wind... She had always admired the gentle delicacies of her surroundings, and this trait soon engrained itself into what she dreamt of to be the perfect lover. Every young mistress suffered from this stimulating anticipation, yet the customary methods of a courtship didn't appeal to Katherine's most sincere wishes. Her companions from childhood often spoke of the perfect man, fanciful visions of blossoming romance... yet Katherine's heart never would allow the opportunity to relish in these childhood fantasies. Her hopes were never to be addressed by any of her closest acquaintances, even Lady Georgianne... and there was a worthy rationalization as to why. Only when her healthy limbs took Katherine on her journeys (which soon evolved into faithful daily voyages) did she allow herself the luxury of indulgence. Transitory images of flowing hair... abundant, ivory skin... delicate whispers of undying devotion... and none of these daydreams possessed the mannerisms of masculinity in shape or form.
As her path grew outside the realm of the community, Katherine soon discovered a few small residences outside town. One of which was a grand, sprawling mansion nestled between the scenic lowlands. Katherine had not cast her eyes upon such a lavish domicile since Middlesex. Ornamental flowers decorated the landscape, protected under the shade of towering trees. A rippling creek that forged itself through the property, providing refreshing crystal blue water for the blistering days ahead. The property held a certain imaginary quality to it, as if the lands held promise... a vow for vitality, fondness, and gracefulness. Her steps grew quick as her curiosity demanded more. As the venturous mistress's proximity grew closer, her eyes soon beheld a vision of grace and comeliness that caused her heart to billow with ardor. She had heard the unsubstantiated whispers before of how a spell casts itself on two people who are meant for another... Yet Katherine had never experienced this first hand. How the glowing allure burned brighter than any lamp or candle... The hearsay that Katherine never placed any faith in soon became a resounding voice of truth as she saw this heavenly Matron exit the doorway, taking the first steps out onto the feathery green lawn beneath her.
The footsteps came to a halt... the surrounding ambience grew silent... The vital organs of both women hesitated as both sets of eyes assembled together in flawless rapport. The distance between both, perhaps a dozen feet or so, miraculously condensed itself to within inches as their mutual gaze enraptured both unguarded women. This healthy looking stranger, so ethereal in sight, violently arrested Katherine's breath... Her blanched hair, attenuated and graciously released, flowed about her shoulders as the fortunate afternoon winds cradled each vivid strand... Almond shaped eyes that paralleled the bluest of sapphires gleaming in an ivory moonlight. Her skin retained a faint hint of the summer's brilliance in its hue, possessing a gentle radiance under the bright sunlight. The facial features, defined, yet supple without a blemish. Her lengthy, moist neck cascading down into a ripe and abundant bust, yet constrained by the fabric of her casual, mid afternoon dress. The restful silence flourished as their eyes saturated themselves in each other's presence. Not one word could be uttered between the two women, yet, for some extraordinary reason, both could hear the silent voices of truth begin to vocalize their song of irrefutable allure. As quickly as the moment etched itself in the pages of eternity, it concluded as the mysterious matron hastily dropped her basket of flowers, running to the confines of her home. Katherine flinched, wishing to voice her yearning for her to stay... It was all too soon that the profound moment slipped between her fingers.
Inside the plush dwelling of the matron, the beguiled female shut the door behind her, leaning her back against it in a futile attempt to halt the torrent of veracity. Catching her breath, her gaze traveled all about the room. Confusion, delight, and rhapsody arrested the mature woman's disposition. What her eyes beheld seconds ago was the image of flawlessness and ardor she had scrutinized over in occasional, yet commanding dreams since her childhood. These mental images faithfully emulated the very essence of her being, yet were tragically quelled as the confines of adulthood began to run its course. Society had dictated its heartless expectations upon her, yet it was within the furthermost places of her soul that truth would always maintain it's undeniable custody. As her breath smoothed to a comfortable pace, she glimpsed out a nearby window to find that the young woman had vanished. In sorrowful reflection, she lifted her delicate, sensuous fingers to the windowpane- a heartfelt effort to project her sentiment outward, hoping that it would find the young mistress that so captivated her soul. In her native tongue, the matron whispered; "Mai notre croix de voies d'accès une fois de plus, mon amour.". Which faithfully translated: "May our paths cross once more, my love.".
Wednesday arrived, and much to her surprise, Sir George III summoned Katherine to join him on a journey to Boston. Business matters were of top concern that day, and taking notice of his daughter's melancholy temperament, he believed the two-day junket might be appropriate. With two of Sir George's servants in tow, the entourage was soon on its way.
This being the first trip into Boston, Miss Katherine was astonished by the size of the new colonial city. She had read several stories about this town, but now it was for her own eyes to feast upon. The local hotel received the Richardson staff with warm salutations, offering them two of the most magnificent chambers they possessed. Luxury and grandeur poured from every portion of her room, and Miss Katherine had, for a fleeting moment, a content sentiment she had not felt since Middlesex. It was superb. Still the little girl who joyously relished such opulent flair, she had decided that she was going to enjoy the large bed, and all the amenities that the hotel graciously provided. Her initial gesture was to brush the lengthy tresses of her cinnamon hair. It had been a diversion she had not participated in since Middlesex, and now, the moment petitioned Katherine's senses to yield to its irresistible charm.
Sitting in front of the mirror, Katherine watched as her hands cascaded down each bundle of hair her fingers clutched. Her mind recalled all the favorable comments about her locks, and, for the first time in her 21 years of life, she finally could agree. She was a beautiful young mistress. Perhaps it was the overabundance of humility that her Father coerced upon his wife that made Katherine believe she was no more than the average, unadorned female. This journey to Boston, simple in nature, would be one that retained numerous implications for the young Mistress. And as the transfixed maiden stood after brushing her hair, her fingers leisurely grasped the strands maintaining the hold of the nightgown upon her undefiled body. Recalling the afternoon's tryst a few days ago with the older matron, Katherine's face glowed with obvious comfort. Gazing into the mirror, she was soon enveloped in a cloud of curiosity with herself. Unfastening the knots, Katherine observed as her graceful figure was liberated from the limiting vestments. The casting of her clothing awoke a quiescent voice that Katherine had never before noticed. Not an arrogant, conceited voice of reason, but an assured resonance of an undeniable truth. "You are a beautiful woman, Katherine Avonlea Richardson." The voice, intensifying with each fleeting moment, caused the covers of her eyes to flutter without regard. Her arms involuntarily lifted themselves, placing her moist palms over her abundant, motherly breasts. Katherine cooed in delight, realizing that she had acquired her Mother's healthful, tantalizing features. The skin of her palms tingled with a charisma never felt before... Each palm quietly soothed her heaving chest. This was something that she, in all truth, had never experienced before this sacred night. Her breath of life momentarily departed the flesh, swirling around the center of this fertile, untouched being before her... A resplendent aura of euphoria swept through, providing the wind so essential for her to soar. Intangible moans uniting with breathes of unblemished rhapsody... The welcomed gusts of spring pouring into the dark, lifeless canyons, releasing her from the clutches of a prolonged winter. Life was all around, embracing this young woman with eagerness and immaculate love. She could see her hands whisk across her perspiring flesh, frantic for release... desperate for freedom. She wanted to permeate her fertile womb, and become reborn in the aftermath of total bliss. A woman... Yes, a woman. It was a hidden truth that now demanded her every waking moment of regard. At this moment, a fanciful semblance of the fair matron entered the view of her mind's eye. A kiss, a touch... a whisper of truth in her unsuspecting ear... Katherine wanted this body, this flawless symbol of divine commitment. It was then that another resplendent spectacle made its presence known to Katherine... There, standing before her was an unclothed, drenched female. The candlelight casting a soft glow upon the shapely, glossed figure... Katherine envisioned herself approaching this supple woman, falling into her loving embrace. With eyes closed, she felt the lips of this female brush against her own. Skin meshing in impeccable rapport as the kiss grew in urgency... Opening her eyes, the identity of her fair lover was revealed. There, savoring her dampened tongue with unbridled passion was her beautiful Mother, Victoria... Katherine caught her breath, appalled, yet enticed by her heartfelt vision. But the self-indulgence had carried her too far to turn back now. Just as this realization washed across her, her aura suddenly fell back into the flesh... Convulsions ripped apart her body as her eyes swelled with pleasure. Now on the floor, Katherine's entire frame buckled as she slammed her free hand upon the solid wood floor. Her neck jolting backwards as yet another merciless downpour of delight ravaged her flesh... Her dripping thighs clutched together to absorb the initial shock, but it was useless. All that mattered was savoring this kiss with the reflection of her faithful Mother. Her image wouldn't take leave... Her spine now completely bowed, two short gasps followed as a final and awe-consuming moan of exaltation fled from her raspy lungs... Astonishment, love, excitement, and the libidinous image of Victoria's unsheathed body were all she could possibly perceive. It was unquestionable. Katherine Avonlea Richardson had become reborn.
The next morning, Katherine awoke to the bustle outside on the street. With gentle finesse, the vivacious Mistress stretched out her lovely arms, tightening every muscle she could in a all-consuming yawn. Even in this unadorned state, she emerged as beautiful as the night before... Her demeanor glowing with a truth always known, yet now fully adopted in her consciousness. She was in love, and the early morning sunlight that flooded the room only vindicated an incontestable reality. Completing her delightful yawn, Miss Katherine smiled, knowing that as soon as she returned home, a fruitful and affectionate pursuit of the clandestine Matron would ensue. Climbing out of her sumptuous bed, still disrobed from the previous evening's liaison, Katherine cloaked her bare, humid flesh with a thin sheet from the bed. With her well-developed arms and shoulders bare, Katherine made her way to the window, parting the curtains to see dozens of citizens gathering at the corner of the street. A large wooden platform had been hastily constructed since her arrival yesterday, and a crude sign declaring that a slave auction was to be held at twelve o'clock noon today. "How uncivil." thought Katherine as she contemplated registering her objections with the authority at the hotel. Somehow though, deep in her thoughts, this gathering entranced her. Her Father attended numerous auctions in the past to purchase their own slaves, yet something deeper attracted Katherine to this event. Her mind wondered how any human could be captured, and savagely sold as property. It was detestable in nature, yet an element within it's savage attributes appealed to Katherine.
Swiftly preparing herself for the day's events, Miss Katherine shared a quiet breakfast with her Father. About the only topic that contained any type of discussion was when they planned to return to their home. It was a somber gesture of how their relationship was, distant and quiet. Sir George was taken by surprise when he heard his daughter speak...
"There is an auction I would like to attend today, Father." She said in her secure voice, which baffled him.
"I see... and what is the reason you wish to observe this untamed spectacle?"
"Mother has been in need for a kitchen maid since our arrival. That as well as I am in need of a chambermaid." She said in a demanding, yet soothing voice. "Please see to it that our credit is valid after I make a purchase."
Sir George cautiously set aside his crumpet in concern. "Katherine, these spectacles for not the eyes of such innocence. These people are cruel beasts on their best day."
With her respectful ladylike manners, Miss Katherine wiped the corners of her mouth, and quickly sat up from the table. "My request is poised, Father, Sir. Please see to it that my purchase is acquired at the appropriate time."
With a determination never before seen in his Daughter's eyes before, he watched as she quickly made her way out of the room. She was indeed changed. A deep sigh followed as Sir George realized his only child was, against his will, becoming a woman. If he only knew the extent of just how she was...