tagNovels and NovellasAccustomed to Her Face Ch. 27

Accustomed to Her Face Ch. 27


'Twas the Day Before Christmas

You awoke after midnight warm and comfortable but not sure how you had gotten tucked into you bed. You remembered making love with me. Your ass-hole had the feel of having been fucked. You smiled. "Naughty Daddy," you said sleepily.

You sat up in your bed and looked around the room. A fire was in the fireplace. A candle was lit on the table by your easy chair. You rubbed your eyes and stretched your arms.

The clock on your mantle read one-fifteen. The house was quiet. You slipped out of bed on the window-side and, naked, scurried around to pull on your heavy robe in the chilly room. You flopped down in your chair before the fire, tying your hair back.

"What's this?" There was a tray on your table -- a plate covered with a napkin -- "Excellent!" -- ham sandwiches, a garlic pickle, a small salad -- a carafe of lemon water. You smiled, wondering if Louise or Margaret had prepared the tray. How bizarre to have someone to do these things for you. You greedily began to consume the sandwiches and pickle, your bites punctuated by droughts of the water. You were famished.

You looked around your room. The closet door was cracked open. You wanted your fuzzy slippers, so you got up, opened the closet door, and, crouching down, began to feel about the floor of your closet for them -- but they weren't to be found. Feeling deeper and deeper, your fingers touched a stack of lidded boxes against the back wall. "I don't remember these," you muttered, and you pulled them out.

You opened the top of one and, feeling inside, your fingers touched something smooth and round -- unmistakably a Christmas ornament. You brought the box over to the fireplace, lit some candles and began to lift the ornaments one by one. They were ancient. Hand painted, hand blown, in pairs or in threes or fours, but different, not a matched set, an eclectic collection.

You went back to the closet, pulling out box after box of tinsel and garlands and bows and strands of old-fashioned lights. You sat for a long time on the floor, before the fire, surrounded by the boxes and boxes of decorations, nursing the seed of an idea.

"I could make a tree for him using these. As a surprise. I could make it here in my room to keep it secret. And I could bring him in late tonight and give it to him. I could wear my sexy lingerie and be his gift."

You shoved all the boxes under your bed. Blew out all the candles but one and after finishing you midnight snack, tip-toed through the door into my room and snuggled down into my bed. "He's still downstairs," you thought to yourself as you drifted off back to sleep.

You woke hours later. Sun was up. I was asleep. You kissed me on the cheek as you slipped out of bed. You scurried into your room to dress. "I'll have to work fast -- I've got so much to do."

But it took far less time than you'd feared because you enlisted Louise and Margaret, taking them into your confidence. Soon you three had laid claim to a tree that had been gotten extra and left on the back porch. You had pilfered extension cords from various places around the house where they wouldn't be missed. You slightly re-arranged the furniture around your fireplace to make space.

In a couple hours, a very old fashioned Christmas tree stood in your room with a white sheet tucked around its base. The most modern things were the sixty-year-old strings of lights which you plugged in -- they lit -- the tinsel sparkled --magnificent. You three stood back for a final look, but there was no time to admire it overmuch.

You thanked the girls and the three of your hurried downstairs. They fussed over getting you off to your appointments -- hair, manicure, pedicure -- they called for the car, you gulped down the coffee they brought you, they coated and scarved you, soon you were gone.

At the mall, Lynn fussed and flirted and titillated you through gussying you up. She had you bathed at the spa. She had your legs and arm pits shaved -- you had only ever done this a few times -- and she had your pubic hair trimmed. In fact, she had your pussy lips shaved of their soft hair. It was erotic. You couldn't help but feel it. And your fingers and toes were smoothed and softened, nails trimmed and polished a bright red. And your hair was coiffed to her particular satisfaction. Then your brows were plucked -- you'd never done this -- and make up applied.

Lynn sent you off with a small vial of an old perfume in an old unopened package. "This is fifty years old, dear -- not made anymore. I got it for you from a perfumer friend. 'My Sin.' Put a tiny bit on your neck, touch the insides of your knees, and then a little bit beside your pussy lips. I promise it will have a very desirable effect." She smiled mischievously.

It was late afternoon dusk by the time you arrived home, slipping inside secretly, and followed upstairs by Louise and Margaret. It was gratifying to have them ooooing and aaaahing and you all giggled and laughed at the ridiculousness and wonderfulness of it all.

Margaret hurried downstairs to attend to the last of the cooking. "Will he like it?" you asked as you stood in front of your mirror. The sun had set.

"Oh, yes. He'll like it, Little Miss." Louise smiled. "Hadn't you better get dressed? It'll be time for dinner in a couple hours. I'll help you if you'd like."

"Please, yes. I'm really nervous now. I don't know why. But I so want Daddy to love me."

You put your hand over your mouth. Your eyes teared up. Louise took out her handkerchief and, standing very close, carefully dabbed your eyes.

"Now, don't cry, Little Miss. You'll mess your make-up."

"Little Miss. Is that what you two call me?"

Louise smiled in a big-sisterly manner, "Yes. That's what we call you. That's what you are. You are quite young, after all. And small -- shorter than us. You even call him 'Daddy,' you naughty thing."

She chuckled at your horrified look. "Oh we hear your carryings on, Little Miss. The halls will echo. But you don't have to worry about it -- or us -- and you certainly don't have to worry about him loving you. I've never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you. He watches you come and go. He smiles whenever your name is mentioned. He's slain. Make up and clothes couldn't make him love you more or less. But he's sure going to enjoy what he sees tonight."

There was a knock at the door from my room da daaa daaa / da da da da. "She's indisposed, sir," Louise called.

"Oh -- yes -- sorry. Just checking," I spoke through the wood. You could hear the amusement in my voice.

"She'll be down for dinner."

"Very well, then. But I have a couple things for her."

"Then leave them there. We'll get them when we're ready."

You heard me laugh, "OK, OK." A moment later, you heard my door to the hall shut and my muffled footsteps traipse along and down the stairs.

The two of you smiled at each other.

"Will you two be staying on?" you asked Louise.

"I hope so. We want to." She began to unbutton your heavy sweater.

"I hope so too. I've been so busy these last couple weeks I hadn't had a chance to take it in, but the house is so much nicer for your work here."

"Thank you, Little Miss." She had folded your sweater and put it away. She was unbuttoning your blouse.

"Why don't you call me something else, Louise?"

She shrugged as she folded your blouse. "That wouldn't be proper. She looked at you earnestly. As much as we like you -- and we like you a great deal -- we work here. Let's leave it at 'Miss' at least for now."

She was unbuttoning your jeans. You had been thinking so much about what you'd been saying that you hadn't really quite noticed how she was undressing you.

"When we're alone, 'Little Miss' will be fine," Louise said in a business-like way. "In front of anyone else it should be 'Miss' -- OK?"

You had stepped out of your jeans and she had walked around in back of you and was unfastening your bra. You breasts were revealed and her fingers slipped into the waist-band of your panties and drew them down. You stepped out of them and Louise threw them in the hamper in your closet.

You were naked. Your nipples stiffened. You turned to face her. She was gazing at you and smiling. "You are gorgeous, Little Miss." Your skin was smooth, your hair was trimmed, your nails were polished.

"I don't know what to do. I've -- I've never really done this before."

Louise grinned broadly. She turned you toward the mirror. "Well, let's think of it this way -- this is what you want him to see just before you -- well -- have him take you. In a way, you are making a gift of your body, right?"

"Oh - very much so. Yes."

"OK, so let's think of how you want to undress for him and dress you accordingly."

"Yes -- yes -- brilliant. Oh -- I have that perfume."

Louise picked up the "My Sin" on the dresser.

"Goodness, I haven't ever seen this." She opened the package and got out the little bottle. It was only two-thirds full.

"Little Miss, hadn't you better go to the bathroom first?"

"Oh, yes," you laughed.

So you trotted off to your bathroom and, moments later, as you wiped yourself, you felt how your pussy lips were completely smooth. So were the insides of your legs. It was exciting somehow, and your cunnie moistened a little bit. It was intrinsically erotic to be preparing for the night -- to be thinking about how you will seduce me -- to have been shaved and prettied up and now to be getting ready. You felt intensely female in a new way, in a special way.

Coming back to Louise, you took the perfume vial and put a tiny bit on your finger. A little behind each ear and on your neck. And then, as Louise giggled, you put a dab behind each knee and then, shyly, you ran your fingers beside your pussy lips.

Louise opened you lingerie drawer. "What will it be, Little Miss?"

"What do you think I should do, Louise? I had thought I'd wear something really naughty."

"Miss, I think you should go with simple and straightforward. You are so beautiful and young. Now -- what color are your nails? Red -- hmmm -- lovely. How about you wear the pale rose lace panties and bra -- it will go so perfectly with your skin and your nails will be a great match. And let's do a garter-belt and the silk stockings with the light red lace tops. This bra has a little push-up to it -- that's just enough naughtiness. Leave the other, naughtier things for New Year's and Valentine's -- or any other night. Leave hot for those other times. Tonight -- give him your warmth and sweetness."

"Yes. Yes, Louise. You're right."

And so she helped you dress, fussing and primping. She went to the door to my room, and got the three packages I'd left for you there. One was a small corsage in a clear package -- a single, delicate pink rose, beautifully set. The other packages were wrapped in silver paper with pink ribbons and bows.

You opened the first. There was a heavy, hinged jewelry box inside, and inside that was a beautiful cameo, obviously precious stone, on a silver chain. Louise smiled and fastened the chain behind your neck. The stone hung over your heart. "It's beautiful on you."

"My goodness -- it looks very old."

"I think it is. He insisted on wrapping it himself. He said it was his mother's mother's."

You thought to yourself that it was sweet how I'd taken these girls into your confidence -- conspiring a little bit to surprise you. The other box contained another jewelry box -- a diamond bracelet.

Louise gasped. You said, "Oh, my." And you giggled. You put the exquisite piece around your ankle. It fit perfectly. It was heavy. You thought, "Ha! Girls' best friends." Louise clapped and laughed. It was rather perfectly irreverent.

Opening to the armoire doors, she asked, "What dress will it be?"

You stood before the opened cabinet and chose the crushed silk velvet dress -- sleeveless, V-neck, snug bodice, just-below-the-knee length -- a deep red-rose color. Louise got out your bright magenta silk slip. Perfect.

The dress was low in the back and buttoned up. You could reach the fabric-covered buttons yourself, but Louise fastened you, and, stepping back, she said, "I'd better go help my sister."

"Wait, Louise... how -- how do I look?"

"Your clothes look wonderful on you, if that's what you're asking -- but oh -- far beyond how you look, Little Miss, you are beautiful. But you should know that." She smiled and left you alone.

"What an odd thing to say," you whispered to yourself, "I should know..." But as you turned to your mirror you saw something nearly unrecognizable -- to yourself anyway.

There you were, a profoundly beautiful young woman, smiling at yourself in the mirror. It was a funny kind of shock. You never think of yourself this way. You still think of yourself as the girl on the high-school lacrosse team, skinned knees, bruised arms. You think of yourself as the little flute player at marching band camp.

You thought of the night you saw yourself in the hallway mirror -- the night you gave me your virgin body. This was akin to that moment.

Yes, when you saw yourself that night -- well -- you were lovely then too. And it struck you profoundly then -- you hadn't realized how pretty you were. Only tonight, you seemed more grown-up. Your hair, your dress, your make-up -- yes, all these things were magnificent -- but you were seeing the thing Louise had seen -- beyond the clothes, beyond the make up, you were radiating loveliness.

You put your hands up over your mouth. You turned this way and that. The dress revealed your curves. You wondered at how you had become shapely like this. When and how had that occurred?

The clock on your mantle showed seven o'clock. You turned out the lights. The room was lit by the Christmas tree alone.

You sat on the edge of your bed. You closed your eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks -- a very unusual thing for you to think of doing.

Now your eyes are closed. You are so quiet inside that you can hear the whisper of your thoughts even before they become thoughts. Here, in your inner silence, you are aware, again, of the warm presence of your invisible companion. She is whispering to you wordlessly, but you know what she's saying: "Take him for me tonight, my little dear. Please let me in. Please be my vessel. Love him for both of us. I won't take much and I promise I'll please you in return. Let me share the night with you."

You smile, "Of course, big sister. Of course" It is such a sweet moment. And there's that caress again -- the warmth beneath your breast. The thrill in your heart. You know she is touching you.

You are strangely excited. You slowly pull your dress up. You slip your fingers into your lace panties. Your pussy lips are so smooth and suddenly wet. You dip your fingers between them and play with the opening to your cunnie, pressing its top edge against your pelvic bone.

You spread your legs open and play. Easy, easy. Rising, rising. How naughty of you. Your fragrance is blending with the perfume. "My Sin, indeed," you think... teasing, playing...

There are footsteps in the hall, a rap on your door, "Miss --"

"One moment, Louise."

"Yes, Miss. Maggie and I want you to know we're ready."

Your fingers are busy, teasing, keeping you on the edge. "Thank you, Louise. I'll be down in ten minutes."

"Miss --"

"One minute, Louise..."

You tease. You squirm. You pinch you clitty. You begin to come. You open your mouth. You want to groan, but you remain silent. It's such a nice, naughty orgasm. Risky. And you like taking risks. You squeeze your legs together, your fingers still between your pussy lips.

Then you withdraw your hand, stand, arrange your dress. "Come in, please."

Louise opens the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss. I was thinking -- how about I lay a fire and light it a little before you come upstairs. You can give me a nod when you want me to. And how about I make you a pallet on the floor before the fire? And maybe bring champagne up -- a couple bottles."

"You're a genius! What a great idea -- ummm -- what's a pallet?"

"Oh -- a bed of blankets and quilts. I would make a mattress here before the hearth with some of the extra bedding in the upstairs linen closets. They smell a little like cedar and lavender, but wouldn't it be nice to lie here right before the fire and in the light of the tree?"

"Like I said -- a genius." You both laugh.

She adjusts your dress. "Oh -- your corsage."

"But where would I put it?"

"You're right." She re-arranges the rose. She twists the ribbon and -- voila! She fastens it in your hair. You glance in the mirror.

"Did I say genius?" You both laugh again.

"Now don't run, Little Miss, but do go down to dinner. Maggie will start you off. I'll be down to help when I'm done here."

You squeeze her hands in yours and, forgetting yourself, run down the hall and the stairs, ever the little lacrosse player after all.

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