The Choices of Evelyn Ch. 19-21

"By then," she went on after clearing her throat, "I was deeply under her thrall, addicted to the excitement of a world I never knew. But the shock of the news must have wakened me up. I escaped to Sweden, mostly hitch hiking as I had hardly any money. In Stockholm, I learned that most of my inheritance had been sent to Rome, as Hortense had been able to turn herself into my guardian, legally postponing my rights until I'd turn 21. My parents were wealthy, you know, and I am an only child. My mother had one unmarried sister. Nobody missed me at the funeral, as the Countess had informed them I couldn't travel because I was ill." She smiled ruefully. "It took me years and a bunch of expensive lawyers to undo what she'd done. At first, I thought of revenge, of course, but life went on and time slowly pushed the memories back until they were nothing more than a nightmare." Her voice became stronger as she sat up straighter.

"I took over the business of my father," she said, "and I even married. I thought I loved Anders, my husband, and maybe I did. But a year into our marriage I knew he could never satisfy my warped needs. We separated, then divorced and I went on to have numerous affairs, mostly with women. Many of them were submissive, and after I took a few of them with me to our family house in Italy, I decided to sell my business and give in to the urges that had been building over the years."

Sandi climbed into M's lap, forcing himself between the two women and kissing the tears off his Mistress's face.

"Sandi love you," he murmured, clinging to M like a kitten. She smiled and caressed his dark curls.

"Mommy loves you too, honey," she said. Her sigh made the sweater tighten around her chest. Then she looked back at Eva.

"A few years ago, I met Alfred, Lord Huntington. He is the president of an elite circle of people sharing my sexual interests. I had heard his name already when I was with the Countess; there wasn't much affection lost between them. He introduced me to his society of Masters and Mistresses and that was where I met Hortense again. My old hatred resurfaced in full, ugly force, but to my horror I felt my conditioning return too, especially when she caught me alone. Her eyes... her voice..."

M shivered, and Eva saw her face change, years falling away until the face of a scared girl remained, wide-eyed, confused. She remembered how nervous the woman had been at the dinner party and a wave of sympathy overwhelmed her. This time, she succeeded in hugging her, feeling M shake in her embrace.

"You see," the woman went on, after freeing herself, her face wet with tears, "I had to run again to save myself. Back home, the effect kept nagging me. I knew I had to tear myself away from what obviously remained of her awful powers. That's when I saw you at the corner of that street, being abused by Zelda." Eva trembled at the memory, holding on to the woman's hands.

"Can you forgive me?" M asked.

"For what?" Eva asked.

"I should have intervened then and there. That black woman is an abomination, destroying girls. But all I could think of was how I could use you, manipulate you, make you into the bait I could use for my revenge. So, I let Zelda have her way with you until I thought you would be ready. I never bought you, I abducted you. You were nothing but an instrument in my war with the Countess. I gambled with you, and I almost lost."

All Eva remembered was the woman in the black gown struggling against her conditioning to reach her and protect her from the she-devil with the whip. She could have left, she could have abandoned them, but she took a cruel beating and imprisonment by the woman she hated most. For her. It caused a wave of sheer love to overwhelm her.

"Stop it," she cried out. "Stop it now!"

"But... ," M protested.

Eva's naked face was streaked with pink blotches; it shone with tears. Her right hand touched M's lips as if trying to close them. She knew what she had to say; she didn't know why, though.

"Stop apologizing," she said. "You can't let us go now, there is no way back. The moment of freedom has passed," she said. "You know that."

M's eyes widened. As she hesitated, Eva knew she was right. The moment to set them free had passed. Making them leave would be cruel betrayal. She might as well kill them.

"But I can't be your Mistress anymore," M protested. "Don't you see? I failed you." Eva shook her tear-streaked face.

"I don't care how you call yourself," she said. "You're stuck with us."

Sandi's little-boy/girl's face appeared next to hers. A child he was, they were both children, weren't they? Her children? M spread her arms and as their heads fell against her soft woolen chest, she cried. They cried. How they cried, Eva and her little raven-haired brother, finally gathered in the embrace of their Mistress – not M, never M anymore. They pushed their naked bodies into the soft gray wool she wore – feeling her curves heave from sobbing too as she tightly hugged them back. New coastlines shaped themselves in an ocean of tears. Still sobbing, Eva pulled herself free, taking Sandi's little hand and pulling him down with her until they again knelt in front of their Mistress.

Mistress.

Eva took one of the woman's feet and placed it on Sandi's head; then she took the other, planting it on hers.

"This is our freedom," she said, grinding the cruel heel into her skull. "You gave it. Don't take it away from us." All bridges burning behind her, she knelt against that fiery landscape, and drilled her Mistress's heel into her skull's skin – savoring the pain. There were no choices left; there was no place to go, but here.

***

Chapter Twenty – Mistress.

There was snow on the terrace. A curtain of flakes billowed from a low sky, muffling every sound. All echoes were silenced.

Snow didn't often fall in these North-Italian foothills; the magic would soon melt away. But tonight, the splendid house stood like a bride in white silk, snow wrapping itself around her limbs as yellow light sparkled from the jewels of her windows.

From where she stood, Eva watched the great hall filling with festively dressed people, silvery laughter dancing on the bronze floor of male voices. Crystal chandeliers spread a warm light that sparkled off jewels and beads. It turned the bare skin of throats and shoulders into creamy velvet.

Mistress knew how to flatter the female flesh, Eva mused. Hidden lights and a scattering of mirrors gave each woman the blessing of youthful illusion, whatever her age or complexion. Entering this festive hall was like plunging into a fountain of youth, making smiles appear and brows relax. Blasé mistresses turned into excited girls, stern masters became reckless boys. It also brought a naughty gleam to the eyes of the enslaved creatures they brought with them.

Watching it, Eva rubbed the goose bumps on her bare upper arms. Mistress had been planning the soiree for a while. Thousands of details had been carefully considered. A list of invitees had been composed, and maybe just as important: a list of the not invited. The table setting had been studied thoroughly, of course; the dinner, the music. And what to wear.

The world had changed for Eva, or had it been she who changed? She'd fought her demons and her Mistress to find a new self – and that new self showed. Her wide green eyes sparkled once again from the restored halo of copper curls, put up today to show her neck and milky-pale throat. Her mouth seemed always set in a flirting smile. Her laughter was genuine, as were the blushes of excitement on her cheeks. Her embraces were open and easy. She'd lost her fear and her wariness. She felt as cool as a cucumber.

Free? Freedom is having choices, they say.

Eva knew there had been only one true choice. She remembered the rooftop, the image standing out as if carved into a sapphire sky. Even then, it had been Mistress who'd made the choice, hadn't it? It had been a magical moment, stretching beyond comprehension. But Eva knew it hadn't been magic, it had been a very real consequence of a stunning choice her Mistress had made: the ultimate sacrifice to wrestle true love from her slave.

The woman had risked her own freedom, her health and her sanity. Echoes of shame still touched Eva when she thought of the pain and humiliation the woman had accepted only to get her stubborn love.

Watching the woman at the entrance, receiving her first guests, Eva stepped forward into the light. For this evening's start, Mistress had dressed her in a sleek gown of peacock-blue silk. The fabric followed her curves closely, shifting with the light. It left her back bare to display the remaining shadows of cruel lashings, and it allowed the soft hills of her breasts and ass cheeks to show. The only accent on her simple velvet collar was a dangling fleur de lys of white gold holding an emerald that reflected her eyes.

No one, Mistress had told her this morning when they dressed, no one could wear this dress like she did. It must be the contrast between her new, almost arrogant bearing and her warm, hugging openness that stunned the arriving visitors. To know that a woman of such cool beauty might be available at the drop of a hat must stir the crotches of many a guest – male or female. Just like it stirred her.

To Eva's surprise, Mistress had engaged her in making the plans. She hardly knew any of the guests, did she? Mistress explained the why of the list she decided on. How there were deadly enemies on the list, as well as close friends. She saw the name of the Contessa and her sister, and some of the old hags from the dinner party. Mistress explained that it would have been much easier indeed to tip the balance and turn the attendance into a claque of friends and admirers – but what would have been the point of that? After what happened, this could never be an evening of goodwill, show and reconciliation. It must be an evening of confrontation. And who'd be there to confront if you don't invite your enemies?

In fact, quite a few of her guests were just that: enemies – high-ranking dominants of an ancient régime. Some of their bloodlines reached back to libertines and aristocrats of pre-revolutionary France. Others took their pedigree from Russian émigré circles and the discreet era of Victorian England. Exactly these were the circles that had been split by M's ascendance from bourgeois nobody to maybe even more despicable upstart. From Mina to M to Mistress.

Alfred Lord Huntington, the de facto leader of this secret and exclusive fellowship, his remarkable wife and a few others were convinced of the need to inject new, fresh blood and ideas into their ancient ranks. So, the charm and talents of the Swedish woman, her relative youth and audacity took them in. His faction wielded quite some clout in the small world of their discrete lifestyle. Eva watched him arrive as she stepped forward, smiling.

The invitation insisted that the dress code would be "outrageous". Most guests had gladly obliged; first and for all Lord Huntington's wife. She and her lovely daughter wore salmon and sea green satins. They were as tight and generously cut as their perfect bodies allowed, which was a lot. The Lady was a petite Thai princess in her early forties. She looked hardly a day older than her taller, nineteen-year-old daughter.

Eva enjoyed the elegance of their movements; the sweet and subtle way they smiled – so gracious, so civilized; and how shockingly it contrasted with their real passions. Mistress had told her how, at the celebration of the daughter's eighteenth birthday, a year ago now, the child had knelt before her father. It had been at their mansion, and in front of a vast audience. The girl had opened his pants with delicate fingers. Then she'd taken his cock in her mouth, allowing it to slide down the entrance of her throat.

"Lord Huntington wields an impressive member," Mistress had elaborated while Eva lay in her arms, still panting from an hour of repeated orgasms. "It ravished his daughter's small mouth and stretched her lips to the point of tearing. Her fingers were hardly able to circumvent its base. Her other hand caressed the heavy balls."

Mistress also told her how the girl's mother had at the same time abused her virgin little asshole with a long and slender strap on dildo. Her pushes urged the girl to take her father in to the root of his erection, making her gag and choke.

And now here they were, mother and daughter giggling like overdressed schoolgirls as they shook the snowflakes from their raven hair. Eva watched them, again wondering why the story hadn't sickened her. Or, rather more to the point: why it had aroused her so much, and still did now.

At a last moment's inspiration, Mistress had arranged for vintage sleighs. Strong black horses pulled her guests up the snow-covered driveway, turning it into a cheerful carnival of chiming bells and cracking whips. By the time they reached the blazing hall, all guests were like excited children. Their eyes sparkled, and their cheeks glowed. Hot steaming wine replaced the usual champagne. The waiters and waitresses were wrapped in red shining latex. White furs lined their collars and cuffs to add a season's accent.

Last, but by no means least, the woman arrived whom Eva feared the most – the Neapolitan Contessa. She and her younger sister entered the Villa in a flurry of snowflakes and expensive furs, scaling the steps on dangerous heels. Her half-naked Nubian giant loomed over them, his ebony chest gleaming with oil and melting snowflakes – sending a thrill down Eva's body.

A hush fell over the guests.

Everyone was well aware of what happened only months ago at the Countess's dinner party – and after. Even her enemies grudgingly admired her for accepting the invitation from the blond Swedish upstart, so soon after the obvious offenses. The Countess had RSVP-ed with impeccable grace, and as she swept into the hall any grudge or reservation she might have was wrapped up in her sweetest smile.

As far as Mistress had told her, the party-debacle hadn't been the Contessa's only recent setback. It was common knowledge that Lord Huntington's ascendency to the presidency of the club hurt her deeply. Her father – whose ties with the South-Italian Mafia was common knowledge – had been boss for ages; she'd taken her election for granted when he died, four years ago. But the members voted for the more modern and liberal English Lord – and they did so with a humiliating majority indeed.

Mistress took Eva by the elbow, taking her with her as she hurried to welcome them, instructing a valet to take care of their fur cloaks. After discarding them, they both showed off fine red leather corsets laced tightly at the back to tuck in their narrow waists. Their artfully stuffed cups pushed their breasts up in creamy abundance. Hortense was wearing a bright red leather culotte and knee-high, well heeled boots. Her younger sister Eugenie only wore garters and red silk stockings. Her burgundy and silver ankle boots were embroidered silk. Piled-up black wigs completed their appearance.

Mistress and the sisters exchanged greetings with candy-laced smiles, well aware of the gossip-hungry eyes trained upon them. Eva kept her radiant smile as she felt the Countesses hot, dark gaze burn into her.

Voices were sweet, words gay and airy. The women never even hinted at the disaster of their latest encounter. Both Ladies complimented Mistress on her adventurous reception – 'adventure' being their code word to signal their despondency. It was all too daring and different from how things 'ought to be.' Mistress smiled and thanked them profusely for the compliment, introducing Eva, who was thoroughly ignored. Right at that moment the butler informed the gathered guests that dinner would be served at the adjoining dining hall.

The vaulted room was alive with music, played by sweet girls in slinking dresses. What they played was light and seasonal, things like Straus's Schneewalzer and the winter part of Vivaldi's Quattre Stagione, but also Frederick Delius' and Leopold Mozart's Sleigh rides. Huge fir trees dominated the walls. The only adornments on their dark and fragrant needles were a multitude of bright lights and a spray of fake snow.

After the Countess's departure to the dining hall, M let out a deep sigh, her hand resting on Eva's arm. The sigh made her breasts shiver inside her bodice. She'd wrapped her tall self entirely in black leather this evening, contrasting with the marble of her Nordic, winter-pale skin. She'd told Eva that the tight grip of a well-laced corset gave her the confidence she needed, as would the proud, towering stance of her heels. It was another admission of uncertainty by this proud woman Eva would never have expected only months ago.

So much had happened...

Mistress smiled and turned her gaze to Sandi. Ah, in the end there always had been the three of them. Sandi was perfect in his own sweet way, wearing a sky blue satin dress, hugging his strong little feline body. It was short on his thighs and high against his throat. His swollen nipples pushed out the shining fabric at every step he took. With the right light, they seemed more now than just puffy nipples.

The boy radiated his sexuality in the innocent way that had become his trademark ever since his stay at the Bordello room. For him, things were right; nothing to be bothered by. His anxieties had been washed away, making him into the obedient cocksucker she'd seen at the Contessa's dinner party, a happy toy eager to show his expertise. With a shiver Eva remembered the boy's soft lips on her ruined back when they'd returned from their Neapolitan inferno.

"Oh God, Evita, what they did to you?"

***

A huge oval table had been set in the ancient ballroom, and the guests were gently herded in to find their assigned places. Eva looked in from the hall, letting her eyes wander around the damask expanse. It was lit by a multitude of tall candles; their light spread a sparkling blanket of highlights on silverware, white china and crystal glasses. The faces of the guests were flushed and animated. Their conversation was still as lively as it had been at the start. She saw Mistress at the far side, her eyes closed. Then she opened them again. Picking up a silver spoon she touched her glass and rose.

"Mesdames, messieurs, ladies and gentlemen," she said, her voice soft and hoarse, touched by a slight tremor. A silence fell, and all faces turned into her direction. She smiled.

"Tonight, I welcome you for yet another gathering of our little circle," she went on. "The weather gods have graced us with a unique setting. Let's hope that the sweet gods of lust and sensuality will favor us too."

A murmur of agreement danced around the table. Mistress sought out the face of Lord Huntington and smiled into his eyes.

"Tonight, my sweet friends," she continued, "tonight will be special. Firstly, because we will eat and drink and enjoy the company of lovely friends, delicious creatures and great lovers. Secondly it is extra special to me, as it will be the first time to receive you in my house and be your hostess."

A soft and benign murmur arose. Eva saw fingers tapping the table and heard a few "hear, hears." She looked over at the Countess who didn't seem amused.

"We also will enjoy more stirring pleasures, though," Mistress went on. "Sensations that no doubt will deeply satisfy us all. But of course, I shall not disclose those at this early moment."

She took her glass and lifted it.

"First let us toast to our unique little circle of pleasure. Santé, my friends."

They toasted and drank. Then Mistress smiled and clapped her hands.

"On s'amuse!" she cried out. "Let's have fun. Che la festa abbia inizio. Let the party begin."