Disclaimer: All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. All Jane Austen inferences belong to Jane Austen. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)

MEADOWOOD

~*~ Isabella Swan ~*~

"Rosalie," I said with an exasperated huff. We had had this particular conversation too many times for me to count in recent days. "As I have told you numerous times, I do not know if what they say about Lord Cullen is true. And, I do not wish to discuss it further!"

I turned away from her in the bed we shared, my eldest and most beautiful sister. Rosalie had been in service for a considerably longer period than I, and she was much more experienced with the ways of the world. She was tall and blonde and pretty and outgoing, and I was petite and shy with plain brown hair and fair skin. I was bookish, or that's what they called me in town, and quiet, and I lived my life mired in fantasy, spurred on by whatever romance novel I was reading at the time. Rosalie, on the other hand, simply lived life. She worked hard and was well-respected among the servant class in the county, but she enjoyed the company of men and was not shy about her desires.

That is not to say that my dear sister was not pure of virtue, which, of course, she was. She just enjoyed certain attentions and encouraged them for her amusement. I knew that one day, she would settle well and have a long and happy life. It was all that any of us truly wanted.

As for myself, I was not yet nineteen and had only had one placement since I entered into a life of service. It was expected of us, our lot in life being low born as we were, and it was a way to earn a respectable living for our family. Our mother and father were elderly and frail and could no longer work, so Rosalie and I assumed the responsibility of bringing food to the table, wood to the fires, and oil to the lamps.

My previous position had ended rather abruptly, due not to any fault of my own, but to the sudden death of my employer, Lord John Weber, a kindly old man who was very generous with both his wages and his temperament. I trained under his head housekeeper, who was very patient with me, being so new, and I learned more in two years there than I could have ever hoped to at a more formal house.

My new position was to begin the next day, a housemaid at Meadowood, the largest mansion in the county. Just the thought of that manor, those grounds, that family, and I knew that I would not find sleep easily. Lord Cullen, eldest son of the Duke of Devonshire, was heir to the family fortune, and the rumour was that he would one day inherit an amount of money beyond anything of which I could possibly conceive. He had quite a reputation in the county, which could easily be attributed to the fact that he was our most eligible bachelor, and as many women as he was rumoured to have courted, no one woman had yet been able to capture his heart. But that was not what had Rosalie's constant attention since my employment had been announced. It was Lord Cullen himself, the man.

He was said to be the most beautiful man in the county, hair the color of burnished copper, eyes the color of rich emeralds. Tall and imposing, with a strong jaw and a commanding air about him. I had only personally set my eyes upon him once, and it was from a very far distance, so I could not give my opinion on the matter.

But there was more, of course. Much, much more. He was said to be a man of certain … appetites. I was never sure that I understood exactly what Rosalie meant by that, but I knew that it was something terribly personal, something which took place behind closed doors, the most private of things. Just thinking about Lord Cullen in that way, well, it made me warm all over, a blush creeping across my skin for no reason other than illicit thoughts of which I was not able to control. You see, I had never touched a man, and no man had ever touched me, and I had been raised to believe that is how it should remain until I took a husband. That my virtue, my innocence, should belong to only one man, and that I should serve him, without question, for the remainder of my days. That being said, I had developed a very creative and active imagination over the years, and I thanked the heavens, quite literally, every morning during daily prayers for such a private outlet for my young desires.

I drifted off into a restless sleep at some point, my dreams filled with gray mist and copper hair and emerald eyes.

I awoke early the next morning and set out from the house before dawn. I gave Rosalie a long, sisterly hug, with promises to write often and to return for a visit as soon as it was allowed. I would be living at Meadowood, in the servants' quarters, of course, and it would be the first time in which I was separated from my family for any length of time. It was one of the requirements of employment at Meadowood, live-in help, and I bore the sacrifice silently, knowing that my family would have more food on the table because of my efforts.

I only had a small satchel with me, containing my very few belongings, and I climbed into the small carriage they had sent for me - the manor was on the other side of the county and a good half-day's ride.

The weather was cool and dry for a change, which I felt was a good omen for the beginning of this chapter of my life, and when we reached the outer gates of the manor, I took a moment to survey my surroundings. I had passed the large stone house several times over the years, but never gone further than peeking in through the gates, as I was doing presently. The grounds were surrounded by a large forest on three sides, and a beautiful flowered meadow in the front that seemed to go on forever. I could see the large manor in the distance, ethereal beneath the morning fog, and I had the strangest and most sudden feeling, as if I were home. That my life up until this point was meaningless, and that it was all to lead me here, to this manor, and that it would be here that I would find my destiny.

It was such an odd feeling, but I shook it off, attributing my thoughts to reading too many romance novels with happily-ever-after endings, the young prince saving the innocent townsgirl from a life of drudgery, declaring his undying and eternal love for her.

When I arrived, I was greeted at the back door by the Head Housekeeper, Mrs. Cope, and was immediately shown to my room, just down the hall from the ever busy kitchen. The room had two small beds, but as explained to me by Mrs. Cope, Meadowood was currently understaffed, and I would have the room to myself, at least for a small period of time until the vacancies had all been filled. I arranged my things in the small bureau, placing a small framed drawing on the table next to my bed, a gift on my last birthday from my dear Rosalie.

There was to be a large dinner party that very evening, and I had a lot of work to do to both learn as much as I could about procedures before the party began, and to help as much as I could to ease the burden on the other maids.

I quickly dressed in the uniform of the house, which was provided for me at no cost to myself, the traditional long-sleeved, full-length black dress, white apron, and white cap. I pinned my long, unruly hair tightly up under my cap, wanting to appear as neat and professional as I possibly could. Meadowood was completely different from my previous position, much more formal, and I was extremely careful, not wanting to make any errors, no matter how small, on my very first day.

The afternoon went by quickly, mopping the floors, dusting the furniture, polishing the silver. I brought wood to all of the fires and kept them stoked and burning throughout the day, helping to ease the slight chill that permeated the damp, stone walls. Everyone was in a hurry, rushing to get as much done as possible before Afternoon Tea. The house was a hive of activity.

I walked out behind the house to empty the dirty mop water and to refill my bucket from the well, when I heard a loud and sudden commotion behind me. I turned to see a horse galloping up quickly on its way to the stables, and before I knew it, it was upon me, and I screamed in fright, pressing myself flat against the stable wall. There was a man seated upon the horse, and as he pulled back on the reins in an attempt to control the beast, it reared up and shook its head at me, and I felt sure that my short life was over, that this angry animal was going to trample me flat into the ground.

But the man on the horse remained in control, and turned the horse to calm him, stepping in small circles until he had turned completely back around to face me. He was staring down at me as I cowered against the wall. He seemed angry, but I could not imagine whatever for. I had done nothing wrong. He should be apologizing to me after scaring me nearly to death with that beastly animal!

It was then that I looked up at him, really looked at him, and I gasped as I realized who was before me... it was Lord Cullen, and he was even more handsome than I could have ever imagined. So much so that I found that my heart was pounding, my breath was coming in pants, and I seemed to have temporarily lost the ability to speak. I clutched my hand to my bosom, both in an attempt to steady my breathing and to calm my racing heart. His gaze was intense, his dark green eyes boring into mine, demanding my every attention.

Once I had recovered my faculties, I immediately dropped to my knees and lowered my eyes in his presence. I had never been taught to act in such a way when before a gentleman, but with Lord Cullen, it felt instinctual, natural, and I found myself wanting to please him. I waited there for him to address me. I dared not speak first.

"You there... girl," he called to me in a deep, rich voice. "Lift your head and look at me."

I lifted my head as he bid, but I remained on my knees in deference to the great man. He was still seated on the horse, looking down at me from an incredible height, and I felt a chill throughout my body as my eyes met his. I felt drawn to him, tied to him with imaginary string, as if we had known each other for our entire lives, and I knew that it would cause me physical pain to be parted from him. But he was obviously above me, not only physically, but in our social stations, and I knew we could never be together, that he would never want me as I wanted him.

"What is your name, child?" he asked. He could not have been more than ten years my senior, but his addressing me as "child" was somewhat standard and appropriate between Master and servant.

"Isabella," I said nervously, then cleared my throat to speak again. "It's Isabella, M'Lord."

He grinned slightly, and I found myself to be speechless again, paralyzed by his handsome face, his strong jaw, his soft lips.

"Stand, please, Isabella," he commanded, "and come over here where I can see you better."

I stood immediately, brushing the dirt from my skirt, and walked until I was standing before him and his hellish beast. The horse huffed loudly, flaring its nostrils, and shook its head aggressively at me. It startled me, and I wanted to run away to safety, but Lord Cullen pulled on the reins and kept it in its place. I felt safe in his presence for some inexplicable reason, that he would take care of me and protect me, and I stood my ground, my chin lifted high.

He gazed upon me for several minutes, or so it seemed, but in all actuality, it was a much shorter time. It felt, however, like he was somehow looking directly through me, into the depths of my very soul, and I opened myself up to him, wanting him to see and know every part of me. I had never felt this comfortable before in the presence of a complete stranger, and I found myself wanting to feel his touch, his hands upon my skin. My body was reacting to him, from merely his gaze upon me, and I was experiencing a sensation in my body unlike anything I had ever felt before.

"You are quite lovely, Isabella," he said softly, then grinned at me. "I look forward to our next meeting." And with that, he disappeared from my sight.

I stood there, next to the stable door, for several moments, in stunned silence, trying to reconcile what I had just experienced. I was aching in my most private of places, and I felt a sudden wave of shame for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about a gentlemen, and even worse, my new Master.

~*~ Lord Edward Cullen ~*~

I was riding in from a long stay in London, tasting the sights and sounds and … flavors that the great city had to offer a young man like myself, and I was thinking of nothing in particular but the power of the mount between my legs. My horse was a strong and angry beast, not unlike myself, and that thought alone made me smile and laugh inwardly.

Upon reaching Meadowood, I galloped around to the back of the house, intending to put the horse in the stables and then pay my respects to my mother and father, which would indeed be a daunting and dreadful task, as I had been away for a considerable amount of time. I was sure that the rumors of my activities in town had quite preceded me in my return, displeasing my family greatly, which I had unfortunately come to expect. However, I had long ago decided that I would live my life in a manner which pleased me, independent of the fact that I was the heir to a rather large fortune. I cared not for the titles and the position and the societal obligations. The money, however, was quite a different story. I had yet to figure out a way to live my life as I chose and to retain my inheritance. But I was determined to find a way.

As I reached the back of the stables, I came across a young maid at the well, a new maid, one I had not yet seen, and she was terrified of my horse, cowering in my presence. She looked up at me, quite quizzically, then suddenly dropped to her knees in the dirt before me, lowering her eyes in a gloriously deferential gesture.

I could not believe what I was seeing. A young girl, submitting herself to me on her knees without a single word from my lips, a sight of which I had never seen, in all my days, in all my previous liaisons with the females in the county... in all of my searching. It seemed to come to her naturally, her submissiveness, and I immediately desired her, although I had not yet seen her face, so I ordered her to lift her chin so that I could gaze upon her visage and assess her to my satisfaction.

What I saw struck me to my very soul... large, soulful brown eyes, so expressive and full of emotion and passion, which all seemed, at that moment, to be directed inexplicably towards me. Fair skin, so pale and soft that I wanted to stroke it gently for fear of her simply shattering beneath the tips of my fingers. A pouty mouth with a full, ripe bottom lip, pink and plump, and my thoughts went immediately to what I wanted to do with that mouth, illicit thoughts that had me paralyzed with desire, but that I knew would have to wait for another day.

I asked the child for her name, so that I would know what to call her in my fantasies when I ordered her to her knees, fantasies which had already begin inside my head, and she told me that it was Isabella... Isabella, the most beautiful name I had ever heard, belonging to the most beautiful, desirable girl I had ever laid my eyes upon. I immediately wondered if she could be the one, the one who could serve all of my desires and be the end of me.

I ordered her then to stand before me, so that I could see her in her entirety, although she was covered from cap to boots, and the only flesh that I could see was her beautiful face, her delicious neck, and her delicate wrists and hands. She was of a slim stature, almost too slim, and not very tall, but pleasing to me in every way, and when my horse shook its head and huffed at her, as it did to any stranger it had not yet encountered. she held her ground, lifting her chin proudly, showing me that she was not afraid of either my horse or myself.

Ah, she was spirited as well as subservient. This would make for a lovely combination, and should provide me endless opportunities to explore my special desires.

I knew that I should take my leave just then, although I felt sure that it would pain me to leave her presence, but I had obligations in the house. And I knew that if I remained a moment longer, I would dismount my horse, toss her to the ground, and take her immediately, right at that moment. My desire for her was that intense, an invisible tether between us that could never be broken.

"You are quite lovely, Isabella," I said softly, not wanting to scare her, and then I smiled. "I look forward to our next meeting." And then I gave my mount a lick of my crop, and it lurched forward towards the stables, as I needed to be away from her presence so that I could ponder this new and promising situation.

~*~ Isabella Swan ~*~

The party was a grand success, with every gentleman and gentlewoman in the county in attendance. I was kept busy the entire evening, fully expected to carry an equal part of the workload, despite the fact that it was my very first day of employment at Meadowood.

At one point in the evening, I stepped out behind the stables to fetch a fresh bucketful of water from the well, and I took a brief moment to catch my breath and gaze up at the stars. It was a beautiful night, clear and cool, and I found my thoughts drifting back to my meeting earlier that day with Lord Cullen and his horse. I shut my eyes to better imagine his beautiful face, his piercing eyes, and I pressed my hand against my breast, amazed at the sudden and increased pounding of my heart, simply from the memory of our encounter. It suddenly felt as if he were with me at that moment, as if I could almost feel his hands upon my skin, and as inappropriate and forbidden as such thoughts were, I found that I was unable to stop myself, and I wanted nothing more at that moment than his touch.

It was then that I felt his warm breath on my neck.

"Isabella," he whispered in my ear, and it all felt so incredibly real that I found myself wishing to never wake from this particular dream. When the bare skin of his hands touched the bare skin of my wrists, I realized that I was indeed awake, and that the man himself was standing directly behind me, so close to me, in fact, that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. I opened my eyes and tried to turn to see him over my shoulder, but I quickly discovered that I was unable to move, as his hands had travelled up my arms, and he was holding me firmly in place.

My knees felt suddenly very weak, and if it weren't for his strong arms holding me in place, I was certain that I would have fallen to the ground before him. He pulled me back against him so that our bodies were touching, and I could feel the entire length of him, from his broad shoulders to the smooth leather of his riding boots. I knew that I should express my outrage at his forwardness, at being touched in such a personal and intimate manner, but I remained silent in hopes that he would continue.

"Isabella," he whispered again in my ear, his soft, warm lips brushing against my neck, just above the collar of my dress.

"Yes, M'Lord," I groaned in response, answering a question that he had not yet asked. "Oh yes, yes, yes."

He pulled against me suddenly, his hands around my waist, holding me firmly, and he made a noise from deep within his chest, an angry growling noise, like an animal, and it set me on fire, the ache between my legs returning with renewed urgency.

"I am not your Lord, Isabella," he said in a rougher, deeper tone, "I am your Master, and you will address me as such from this moment on." His hands began to move slowly upwards, and I was starting to panic, torn between the wanton desires of my heated flesh, and what I knew to be right and proper behavior.

"You are mine, Isabella," he growled. "I need for you understand that. From the moment I first set my eyes upon you, I knew. That you belonged to me. That we will be together... forever." He kissed me then, hard, his mouth wet and open against my neck, as his hands slipped just underneath my breasts, his thumbs drawing slow circles on the bodice of my dress. He pressed his body against me again, his hips into mine, and I could feel what I only assumed to be his manhood, swelling and hardening against my skirt.

Oh, if only I could truly know him in that way, in the way that a woman knows a man... that a wife knows her husband. If only it could be.

I was lost in the sensation of his touch, in my daydreams, my fantasies of another life, so it was with great surprise that I realized that Lord Cullen had his hands firmly across my breasts, touching me in the most intimate of ways. I was fully prepared to push him away, to express my outrage at his forwardness, when Mrs. Cope appeared at the back door, calling my name in the darkness.

"Another time, sweet girl," he whispered in my ear with a final kiss on the soft flesh of my neck, and then he disappeared into the night. I stood for several moments, in utter shock at what had just transpired, until Mrs. Cope called for me yet again, this time more urgently, so I grabbed the bucket from underneath the well spout and hurried back to the house.

I did not see Lord Cullen again that evening, but when the party had finally ended and all of the work had been completed for the night, I retired to my solitary room, to my small, lonely bed, and I dreamed of him yet again. Of his voice, his warm breath, his soft lips, and his hands... how they felt upon my body.

~*~ Lord Edward Cullen ~*~

I had to escape that dreadful party, a weakly disguised attempt by my meddlesome mother to find a suitable mate for me to marry. She knew so little about me, about my needs and wants and desires. Not one of these vapid society woman could fulfill me in any meaningful way, other than, of course, spreading their legs for me for a night in my bed, but these women held their virtue, and their thighs, tightly locked, especially against the likes of me, someone with my reputation.

I slipped outside to clear my head, and I saw Isabella, the new maid, in the distance, standing by the stables. My heart began to pound, and I found it suddenly difficult to breathe. Oh, what this woman did to me already. I approached her slowly, unable to resist the pull between us, until I was standing directly behind her. She had not heard my approach, and was still standing, silently, deep in thought.

I leaned down, completely unable to resist, and inhaled her pure luscious scent, my mouth only inches away from the flesh of her neck. My breath was coming in quick pants at her nearness, and surely she could feel the warmth on her skin.

I said her name aloud, only once, whispering it in her ear, so excited to utter that single word in her presence. I slipped my hands about her wrists, tiny and frail, and I was able to quite easily wrap my entire hand around each. Her skin was soft, as I had imagined, and there was a heat, a current, passing between our touch. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to bind her wrists behind her back and bury my mouth in her soft neck until she screamed.

But I held back, knowing that there was a time and place for everything, and that our time would surely come. I felt completely sure that Isabella was the girl for me, but I could not share that revelation with anyone, not even Isabella herself.

She seemed to suddenly flinch at hearing her name, as if she were dreaming and suddenly awakened to find me standing behind her. Was she dreaming? Was it about me? Could it possibly be that this fascinating and utterly perfect young creature was as enamored with me as I was with her?

I slid my hands from her wrists to her upper arms, holding her firmly in place, as she seemed suddenly weak and about to collapse at my feet. I pressed the entirety of my body against her then, wanting and needing to feel how her little body fit against my own, her head just reaching my shoulder, nestling together perfectly.

I was aching to feel her skin against my own, just like this, but I knew that I could not. It was much too soon with this one, and I did not want to scare her away. I wanted to cultivate our relationship, watch it build and grow until she discovered that she needed and desired me as much as I already needed and desired her.

It was such an odd position to find myself in, as I had taken several of the female servants in the past, in a stairwell, in the basement, in the stables, with no such forethought, just a desire to satisfy whatever my need was at that exact moment.

But this one, she was different. I desired her for myself and only myself. The thought of another man touching her soft, fragile skin enraged me, and I would do anything in my power to ensure that that would never happen.

I whispered her name yet again and brought my lips to her neck, no longer able to contain my desire to kiss her sweet, soft flesh, and she groaned a reply, answering a question that I had not yet asked. "Yes," she said, and I reveled in the word, so full of hope that she was saying yes to me, to us, to anything that I wanted.

The mere thought of her agreeing to be with me, on the very first day that we had become acquainted, inflamed my blood, and I pulled her hard, back against me, slipping my hands around her slim waist, my fingers holding her tightly against me.

I explained to her then, in no uncertain terms, who I was, and how she was to address me in the future. I told her that I was her Master, not her Lord, and she would soon find out what that entailed, what her responsibilities would be, how she would be expected to serve me. I could only hope that it was her desire as well.

She did not run at my admission, nor did she squirm away from my firm hands, and I slid my hands upwards from her waist, wanting to touch more of her, as much as I possibly could. I needed to show her that I was in control, and that she would have to submit to my every desire, but that I wanted to please her as well, and that we would enjoy our time together equally.

"You are mine, Isabella," I growled. "I need for you understand that. From the moment I first set my eyes upon you, I knew. That you belonged to me. That we will be together... forever."

I brought my mouth to her neck again, hard and open and wet, and lifted my hands until they completely covered her small, firm breasts, and I squeezed and touched and stroked. She was so sweet and ripe and beautiful and all mine, and as my manhood grew and hardened beneath my britches, I rubbed it against her backside, through her thick skirt, wanting her to know how deeply she affected me.

She was panting, her head thrown back against me, and I knew that she wanted me, that she was enjoying my attentions, but that she was torn between her nature and her obligations. I knew that if I pursued her slowly and carefully, she would come to accept me and my new ways, and she would see that her place was at my side.

Just then, the housekeeper, that meddling wench, called for Isabella from the back of the house, and she moved to pull away from me.

"Another time, sweet girl," I whispered in her ear with a final kiss on the soft flesh of her neck, and then I disappeared into the darkness of the night, with no particular desire to return to the party, just wanting to be alone with my thoughts, my remembrances of my encounter this evening with my sweet isabella.

~*~ Isabella Swan ~*~

The following weeks at Meadowood continued in much the same manner as that very first day. I was up before the dawn, performing my duties as assigned by Mrs. Cope, and as much as I attempted to avoid Lord Cullen for fear of my weakness in his presence, I found that I searched for him around every corner, hoping for a mere glimpse of his beautiful face or to hear just a word or two from his lips.

I was torn in my feelings, wanting to both see him and stay away from him, but at least once each and every day, while in the midst of performing some mundane task of the house, I would suddenly feel his presence, his eyes upon me. I would turn, looking about the room, until at last, I would see him. Often from a distance, other times close enough to touch, but almost never speaking. He always wore the most curious of expressions upon his face, his silent, secret study of me so intense, that I felt compelled to look away or else give away the secret passion for him that I kept locked away in my heart.

~*~ Lord Edward Cullen ~*~

Days and weeks had passed since my first encounter with Isabella, and I found myself to be completely and utterly bewitched by her, haunted by the memory of our single encounter that very first night. I could still feel the softness of her flesh, taste the sweetness of her skin, hear her passionate sighs.

I had grown increasingly fond of taking long walks on the grounds, or through the long hallways and empty rooms of the mansion, with no particular destination in mind, just wandering mindlessly, hoping for a secret glimpse of my beautiful girl. I would turn a corner, and there she would be. My breath would catch in my chest, just at the sight of her, and my heart would start to pound. I would stand in place a safe distance away, waiting and watching, for I did not trust myself to approach her in fear that I would not be capable of controlling my desires. She would suddenly lift her head as if she had heard my secret thoughts, and her eyes would meet mine across the distance. I would be unable to look away, my desire and need for her burning out of control as I watched the warm pink tone of her blush spreading across her skin.

There were moments, as well, when I would turn the very same corner, and I would find myself standing directly behind her. Unable to resist at such close proximity, I would press myself against her back, so closely that I could feel her heat and smell her intoxicating scent, and I would whisper teasing words into her ear, my lips dangerously near to the soft flesh of her neck.

"Isabella," I whispered, delighting in the simple pleasure of saying her name aloud. She would not respond to me in words but in whimpers, soft pants, a tightly held breath. I knew from that first night that she would never tell me no, would never deny me what was rightfully mine, and I longed for the day when we could finally be together.

I would travel to town from time to time, desperate for a diversion, a respite from my growing obsession, but what had formerly held my interest was no longer an attraction for me. I had no desire to bed anyone other than Isabella, and my thoughts were back at Meadowood, wondering where she was at that moment, the house or the grounds, and of course, if she was thinking of me as I was of her.

I knew that it was an impossible situation that I found myself in, that, after years of searching and meaningless trysts, I had finally found my life's desire, and she was out of my reach, but I vowed then and there to find a way to spend the rest of our lives together.

~*~ Isabella Swan ~*~

Late one evening, as I was finishing up the last of my chores for the day, I found myself, once again, next to the stables at the well fetching fresh water. The family had travelled to the next county for a few days, visiting a distant relative who was ill and unfortunately near death, and the majority of the servants were away for the evening. I was alone and enjoying the brief moments of solitude and quiet.

The evening was cool and the sky was clear, the stars shining brightly above me, and I found myself remembering back to that evening, my first evening at Meadowood, when Lord Cullen had appeared so suddenly behind me. I had thought about that evening every single day since then, and I lived for the brief glimpses I had of him each day, waiting for him to approach me yet again, to speak to me, and to yet again feel his warm, soft skin against my own. I yearned for his soft kiss upon my lips, for his passion for me to overwhelm him so much that he could no longer control his desires, and he would take me and make me his forever.

But it was not to be. It was a dream, that was all, and I knew that I should, instead, concentrate all of my energies into my work, remembering the reason that I was employed at Meadowood... my poor, desperate family at home.

I leaned back against the stable wall and gazed upon the stars, dreaming of another life for myself, a life in which I was a born a lady, into a wealthy and respectable house, and it would be completely reasonable to hope to be courted by one such as the beautiful and mysterious Lord Cullen.

I heard a sudden noise in the distance which seemed to be coming from the main house, but I was unable to determine the source, as the bright moonlight was suddenly dimmed by a passing cloud. It was a figure quickly approaching me, a man.

It was him. My Master, Lord Cullen. My breath caught in my throat, and I attempted to step backwards, away from him, but my back was flush against the wood of the stable, and I found that I had nowhere to go.

~*~ Lord Edward Cullen ~*~

It was to be tonight.

The family had left early that morning and would not return until the next day at the earliest, and the household staff, except for Isabella, was away for the evening. I made excuses to my mother, inventing a previous social obligation, knowing that, as concerned as she was with appearances, she would never let me cancel at such a late date. We were to be in the house, alone, for the very first time, and I was determined not to let this opportunity pass without event.

I watched her, all afternoon, from what I considered to be a safe distance, plotting and scheming and planning, waiting for just the right moment to approach her.

That evening, as the moon rose in the sky, I saw her exit the back of the house, walking towards the well, towards the stables, where I had touched her that first night. She leaned against the stable wall, gazing up at the stars, a dreamy look on her beautiful face.

It was time for me to take what was mine.

~*~ Isabella Swan ~*~

He stormed forward until he was standing directly in front of me, and he placed his hands on the stable wall, on either side of me, pinning me beneath his body. I had never faced him like this, in all of the times I had seen him, and I was taken aback by his height, towering over me in the dark.

He was breathing quite heavily, his chest heaving visibly beneath his waistcoat, and his expression seemed to be especially angry and intense, more than it usually was. For some reason, he always seemed angry when I would discover him watching me, and I could never quite understand what I had done to displease him so. His brow was furrowed, framing his beautiful green eyes, surrounded by long, dark lashes. His rough, unshaven jaw was clenched, and his nostrils were flaring, and he suddenly reminded me of his hellish beast, the horse who had almost trampled me that first day. I found myself suddenly quite amused by this vision, and I was quite unable to control myself, and I started laughing.

This seemed to inflame him further, and I could only assume that he was thinking that I was laughing at him, which of course, I would never dare.

His eyes were suddenly fixed upon my mouth, and as he leaned his head down towards me, I no longer found the situation amusing in any way. I wanted only for his lips upon mine, his hands upon my skin, and whatever that he chose to do at that moment, I knew that I was powerless to deny him.

He brought his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek, gently at first, and, as his skin touched mine, a spark passed between us, which was surely some sort of sign that there was an otherworldly connection between us. He slipped his hand behind my neck, holding me firmly and pulling me towards him, and at the moment immediately before his lips touched mine, he spoke to me, a single word.

"Mine."

He kissed me then, and as I had never previously been kissed, except on the cheek by family members, I was uncertain as to what I should do, so, at first, I did nothing at all, which seemed to anger him in some way. His fingers were threaded through my hair, holding my face tightly against his own, and as he moved his mouth on mine, I found that I wanted to touch him as well, so I did, sliding my hands gently from his wrists to his forearms, not wanting to seem too forward. He pulled back from me immediately, staring at my hands upon him as if in surprise, but then, quite suddenly, pulled me towards him yet again, crashing his lips upon mine with incredible force and passion, which, this time, I readily returned.

He pulled at the hair at the back of my neck, forcing my head back and exposing my neck to him, which he quickly devoured with his mouth. His mouth was suddenly upon my ear again, and he pulled the fleshy lobe between his teeth and bit down, gently, until I cried out.

"Who do you belong to, Isabella," he growled. "Tell me now, I demand it!"

I knew that I was his from the moment I first saw him, and I could not deny him any longer.

"You, M'Lord-," I answered quickly, and on immediately realizing my error in addressing him, I quickly corrected myself, hoping to please him in every way. "You, my Master," I sighed softly, accepting it as truth as I heard myself utter the words. "I belong to you."

The combination of my touch and my words seemed to further incite his passions, and he crushed his mouth upon mine, parting his lips until I felt the warm wetness of his tongue entering my mouth. He turned his head then, tilting it to the side so that he could kiss me more deeply, and I responded immediately, purely by instinct, as I had never kissed a man before. When I gave him my tongue, wordlessly submitting myself to him, he made that deep rumbling noise within his chest again, the sound now making me weak in the knees and aching between my thighs.

I wanted to touch him, truly touch him, to feel his skin as he had felt mine, and I moved my hands up his arms with the intention of running my fingers through his beautiful bronze hair, wanting to satisfy my curiosity as to its softness. But before I could get past his elbows, he pulled back from me to look into my eyes again, and clutched my hands in his to stop me.

I was flustered and confused, not understanding what he wanted from me if not equal and returned affections, knowing that he was a worldly man with a great number of rumoured lovers, and I thought suddenly back to my sister, to her words to me the night before I began my employment. That Lord Cullen had certain appetites, which was a complete mystery to me at the time. However, now that I was here with him, alone, in the dark, I began to think about what that might mean.

He pulled my hands from his arms and placed them over my head, firmly pressed into the stable wall. As soon as he had me in this particular position, he smiled down at me, seemingly pleased with what he saw, what he had created.

"Now, my lovely," he said softly. "You are not to touch me without my permission. Do you understand?"

I nodded my head immediately, and although I understood the words that he had uttered, I was unsure as to their specific meaning, why he would not desire my hands upon his body.

"Leave your hands where they are, and do not move them for any reason, or I shall have to punish you."

I held my hands above my head where he had placed them, so terribly confused about this turn of events, desperate to ask him what he wanted from me, what he had meant, yet secretly thrilled at what his punishment might entail.

He trailed his fingers down my arms, so slowly that I thought I would combust from the wanton desire that was building in my body, and as he reached the front of my dress, his fingertips brushed across the most sensitive part of my breasts, hard and aching, and I thrust up into his hands, wanting even more of his attentions. He took the tips between the thumb and finger of each hand, squeezing and pulling until I moaned aloud at the combination of pleasure and pain.

"Oh, you like that, do you Isabella?" he gloated with a half-smile. "Tell me, girl. Tell me you like my hands upon your breasts. Tell me that you never want me to stop."

I opened my mouth to speak, to give him the words that he demanded, that he seemed to need to hear, but I could not utter a single word with his hands moving upon me as they were. He waited for my response, his hands continuing their ministrations, until he came to the end of his patience with me and demanded an immediate answer.

"Tell me, Isabella!" he roared, and I saw his anger, for the first time, for what it truly was... an intense and undeniable passion for me, for me to submit to him, and he grabbed my breasts more harshly, with his entire hands, squeezing and pulling.

"Yes! Yes, my Master! Yes, I like it!" I replied hoarsely. "I like your hands upon me, touching me there... touching my … my breasts." I whispered that last word, so shamed at admitting my desires before this great man, but complying with his wishes because I knew that it would please him.

He leaned into my neck again, his mouth against my flesh, and he whispered his secret desires into my ear.

"You will do anything I ask, will you not, Isabella? You do want to please me, yes?" His voice was soft and sweet, and I could not imagine any particular thing that I would deny him at that point. I wanted whatever he wanted, and I only wanted for his pleasure.

"Yes, my Master," I sighed. "Anything you ask of me. I am yours. Always. Forever."

And I was, I truly was. My life began and ended with this man, and I would do whatever he desired, whatever he asked of me.

"Very good, Isabella," he said with a gentle smile. "Now, down on your knees."

On my knees? He wanted me to bow before him? I had showed him nothing but deference since our very first meeting, but it was not my place to question him. I belonged to him in almost every way that a woman could belong to a man, and I had to trust that he knew what he was asking of me. I dropped to my knees, as I had that first afternoon by the stables, not far from where I was at that exact moment. I lowered my eyes, in respect, and waited for his next command.

"Lift your face to me, child," he ordered. "Clasp your hands behind your back."

I turned my face up to look at him, and from this distance, the disparity in our heights was truly overwhelming, and it only seemed to increase the hold he had over me. He had a pleasant look about him, and as I positioned my hands as he requested, he smiled broadly, which filled me with pride at his pleasure.

He stroked my hair, softly, gently, then brushed his thumb across my plump bottom lip. He slipped his thumb inside my mouth, and pulled gently down on my jaw, wanting me to open my mouth for him.

"Open," he ordered.

I immediately complied.

"I'm going to place something in your mouth, Isabella, and I would like for you to do exactly as I say." Then he opened his waistcoat and began to unbutton his britches. I wanted to look away, having never seen a man's naked body in my entire, short life, but the intensity of his gaze compelled me to continue watching him. I could not possibly imagine what he would ask of me on my knees, but I knew that whatever it was, I would comply, needing my Master's approval above all else.

He reached inside his britches and pulled out his manhood, which was long and thick, and straining so far upright that it was almost touching his belly, and then he placed the very end of it in my mouth, just resting on my bottom lip.

I had no earthly idea what he expected of me, but as he pushed it further into my mouth, I could feel the heat rising up my neck and across my cheeks from sheer embarrassment at my position.

"Close your lips about it, Isabella," he said, his voice a low, throaty groan. "This is a part of me, and as I am now your Master, you will worship it as you worship me."

I pressed my lips around his private part, and was surprised that it was not entirely unpleasant - a strange, foreign taste. The skin was soft and warm, but hard and firm underneath, and the tighter I pressed my lips around him, the more he seemed to enjoy it. I did not know what to do next, so I waited for further instruction.

He placed his hand on my head, threading his fingers again through my hair, holding me firmly in place, and he started to move, sliding his hardness back and forth into my mouth.

"Use your tongue, girl," he directed. "As I pull out like this," and he pulled back until just the very tip was resting on my lip again, "wrap your little tongue around me."

He continued, pushing and pulling, in and out, and I followed his directions to the best of my abilities, having never performed such an act before.

"That's it," he groaned, petting my head as he used my mouth for his pleasure. "Harder, Isabella. Show your Master how much you appreciate his attentions."

I increased the pressure on his skin with my mouth, my lips, my tongue, and I felt him starting to twitch in my mouth. He was holding my hair rather tightly and mumbling words under his breath, so softly that I could not hear what he was saying. I only hoped that it was good and that he was pleased with me.

Then, quite suddenly, he pulled himself free from my mouth and grabbed me by my arms, lifting me swiftly and easily from the ground until I was standing before him. He pressed his body against mine yet again, as my back was pressed to the stable wall, and I felt his firm manhood as he rubbed it at the juncture of my thighs.

He kissed me then, still pressed against me, and he gathered up my skirt in his hands until it was bunched entirely about my waist. Although my nakedness was exposed to him, I no longer felt shame, only desire and need, and when his fingers touched my sensitive skin, I gasped aloud and opened my legs to him without hesitation.

"I want to hear you, sweet girl," he whispered as he stroked my flesh where I was warm and wet, and I was overcome by the incredible feeling coursing throughout my entire body. "I want to hear how I make you feel, hear what I do to you."

As he continued his ministrations beneath my skirt, I felt a stirring, a building pressure, which started in my belly and spread out to my limbs. It was the most glorious feeling and it completely overwhelmed me at its peak, and I moaned loudly and wantonly as it overtook my body.

When the feeling had finally passed, I found that I was so weak that I could barely stand, and if Lord Cullen did not have me pressed firmly against the stable wall, my knees would have surely given way beneath me.

He brought his fingers slowly to his lips, the same fingers that he had just use to touch between my legs, and he tasted them, slowly and sensually, and it was such an illicit act, so forbidden and sordid, that I could not look away. I felt as if I were a completely different person, living in a different time, with different societal rules, and I could do whatever I wanted as long as it pleased him. And seeing Lord Cullen, my Master, happy and pleased with me was now my greatest joy.

He grabbed my arm, quite roughly, and pulled me behind him into the stables. It was terribly difficult to keep up with him, walking so quickly, his strides considerably longer than my own, and the ground of the stables was quite uneven and covered in hay. There was a small table against the far wall, and he lifted me upon it until I was sitting before him.

"I am going to take you now, Isabella," he said with his beautiful, deep voice. "I know that you want me as I want you, and I want you to submit to me completely and give yourself to me."

"Yes," I moaned. "Yes, my Master, whatever pleases you, I wish to do."

"Do what I tell you, child," he ordered, then took my hands in his own and lifted them, once again, above my head, pressed against the stable wall. I was completely at his mercy in this position, and I believed that this was precisely his desire. Rosalie's words slipped into place, and I realized what his particular appetites were, that he wanted a woman who was completely subservient to him in every way, and I knew at that moment that it was my desire as well, to serve him and please him and fulfill his every desire.

He reached behind me, plucking a small length of rope from a hook on the wall where it hung in several small loops. He wrapped the rope around my lifted wrists, firmly and expertly binding them so that I could not move them, then he attached the other end of the rope to the same hook on the wall until I was tethered in place. My arms were pulled tightly over my head, and I was unable to free myself, although I had no desire to do so, only to please my Master in whatever manner I could.

And with that, he placed his hands on my knees, slowly spreading my legs, pushing my skirt and my petticoat upwards until they were bunched at my waist and my nakedness was once again exposed.

He stood back then and admired his work, my bound arms, my open thighs, and he smiled.

I felt him then, his hard manhood as it pressed between my legs, and he positioned himself in such a way to slip it just inside of me.

"Are you an innocent, my lovely?" he asked softly as he pushed further into me. "Am I the first man to claim you in this way?"

"Y-yes, my Master," I replied, not knowing if my answer would please him or not, but he smiled again and pushed his hardness deeper inside me with one long, hard thrust, and I felt a slight pinch, a pain inside me, and then he was completely encased in my warm, aching loins. He began to move, back and forth, sliding it in and out of me. It was slightly painful at first, but the more he moved inside me, the more pleasurable it became, and I began to understand the attraction to the physical act, the need it fulfilled.

"Perfect, Isabella," he grunted. "I am your first, and I will be your last." He was thrusting a bit faster now, harder, his pace increasing. "You feel so good to me, pretty girl... so warm, so tight, so wet."

His words were so illicit, but they warmed me, and I welcomed the feeling as he claimed me as his own in the most intimate way, that odd pressure again in my belly quickly spreading throughout my body, tingling in my fingers and toes.

"Oh my," I moaned. "Please Master... please..." I did not know what I was pleading for exactly, I just desired more of him, and I ached for his pleasure as much as my own.

He leaned over me, again reaching for some object hanging on the wall behind me, his body still firmly encased in my own, and then he slid the object against my bare thigh, and I saw what it was. It was a brown leather riding crop, worn and faded from both use and age, with a braided handle, a long, thin shaft, and a wide leather tongue.

I shivered as he stroked my bare skin with the tip of the crop, touching me just above where he had entered me, and he flicked the crop against my sensitive skin. I cried out at the sudden and immediate sting from the crop, which seemed to please him, but then a warmth spread throughout my body as the pain turned into pleasure.

"You like that, Isabella?" he growled, his voice rough and tight with desire. "Do you like the bite of my crop, lovely girl?" He flicked it again, hitting the same spot again and again, until I was moaning and thrashing about on the table, unable to control my emotions and my desperate need for him.

I could not speak, once again, and I simply moaned and nodded, wanting him to know the answer to his question, but unable to form the words. He slid the crop down my thigh until it was pressing just inside my knee.

"Open wider, girl," he said. "Spread those pretty legs for your Master. Let me see what is mine." He tapped the tip of the crop against my knee to stress his command, and I slid my legs against the rough wood of the table in small increments, the tapping continuing until I was just as he wanted me. He looked down at me, at his body entering mine, at my most private flesh, and he smiled again, that hungry smile.

"Take what I give you now, my love," he whispered. "Show me that you want what I have to give." Then he pulled the crop back and quickly whipped it forward until the tip landed on my inner thigh with a sharp retort. I gasped in shock from the sudden stinging pain on my skin, and I looked down at where he had struck me, and a faint pink line was forming on my pale, white flesh. As the sting started to fade, and the bloom of warmth began to overtake the pain, I looked at the pink line with new eyes, not as the evidence of a punishment from a cruel employer, but instead, as the mark of desire from my Master. He was marking me as his own, and it pleased me beyond anything I could ever imagine.

He clenched his jaw and grabbed my hips tightly in his hands, pulling and pushing me in time with the thrusts from his hips. Every so often, he would strike me again, with the wicked crop, the long shaft striping my skin, and the flat, leather tongue leaving an equally pink mark. Each time he would strike me, I felt him harden and quicken inside me, the sound of the crop on my skin inflaming his desire, and he would thrust himself into me harder and quicker than before.

Then, he moved the crop back between my legs, slowly, teasingly, and he flicked it again and again on my sensitive skin until I cried out, begging him to bring me the pleasure that he had brought me earlier. I knew that I should not ask for such favors from him, that his desires should come before my own, but the bite of the crop and fullness inside my body had drained me of all self-control, and I pleaded for my release.

"Please, please, Sir..." I cried. "Please don't stop... please. I beg of you, my Master."

"Oh, my lovely," he growled. "I shall be honored to give you what you desire, as you have served me so perfectly this evening, and I believe that you and I will have a long and fulfilling future together."

And with that, he increased the pace of his thrusts, and at the same time, continued his rapid strikes with the crop between my legs. Only moments later, I felt myself give way to the wave of pleasure that was overtaking my body, and on this second occasion, it was even more intense than the first time, and I cried out, gasping and panting, as I found my release.

I felt almost thankful for my rope bindings, for my bones had turned to butter in the wake of the pleasure he had given me, and I was surely unable to hold myself up in any way on my own. Lord Cullen growled deeply in his chest and pounded himself into me faster and faster, until at last, he roared aloud and pressed his hips firmly into mine, stilling his motion at last. I could feel his hardness twitching inside me and a great warmth and wetness come from between my legs.

He dropped his forehead to my shoulder, panting and sweating from the exertion of our illicit act, and he waited several moments until he had regained his bearings.

Finally, he pulled himself out of me and buttoned up his britches, then gently untied my wrists from my bindings, and pulled my skirt back down, smoothing it into place. He took my hands in his own and softly rubbed the angry red marks that the ropes had made on my skin. He was so gentle and kind and caring, and I found it almost difficult to reconcile this man with the one who had just taken my virtue in a stable while whipping me with a riding crop. I realized, as he lifted my wrists to his lips, kissing each one gently in turn, that this was the same man, but only displaying different sides of his passions. I knew at that exact moment that I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him, and that I wanted to spend the rest of my days serving and pleasing him in any manner in which he would allow.

He put his hands about my waist and gently lifted me from the rough wooden bench until I was standing once again before him. He held onto me firmly until I was able to regain my balance, as my legs were sore and weak from being held in such an odd position for such a length of time.

He took my face in his hands and looked deeply into my eyes.

"Thank you, Isabella," he said softly with all sincerity. "Thank you for giving me such an incredible gift." He pressed his lips softly to mine, just once, then pulled back again to meet my eyes. "You have honored me this evening with your submission and your innocence, and I swear to you on all that is holy, that I will honor you in return for as long as I shall live."

I could not possibly understand what he was saying to me, but I knew that I wanted it to be true, that he wanted me as much as I wanted him, and if only there were some way for us to be together, then I could truly be happy, but I knew that it was not to be.

"But M'Lord... I mean, my Master, it is just not possible -" I started, but he quickly interrupted me, silencing me with a finger across my lips.

"Isabella, shhh, my love," he said. "I mean what I say, and I will find a way. I have position and I have means, and I am quite used to getting my way in all things," he smirked, "and if it is you that I choose to spend my days and nights with until I die, then so it shall be."

"My Master," I replied, my voice, weak and soft and desperately hopeful, "there is no way. It cannot be. If only-" and he hushed me again with his soft finger upon my lips.

"Isabella," he said in a louder, more serious tone. This was my Master speaking now, the man who completely owned me, not the rogueish Lord Cullen. "I am standing here before you, my manhood still aching and your thighs still wet," he said as he reached quickly under my skirt and slipped his fingers through my wetness to prove the truth in his statement. He removed his hand and showed me the evidence. "And I am telling you," he said, "that you are mine, my lovely, from now until the end of days, and that no other man shall ever touch you, and that I shall never seek the attentions of another woman, that we are now tied to each other in a bond deeper than any legal marriage, and that I will find a way for us to be together."

He kissed me again, this time with more force and passion before, and I believed, finally, everything that he had told me. I would never be the Mistress of Meadowood, this I knew, but that was never what was important to me. I wanted to be happy, and settled, and fulfilled, and to spend my days with a man that I loved and honored, and who honored me in return. And I had found that man, the man who was standing before me, professing his undying devotion to me.

And I knew... somehow, some way, Lord Cullen and I would be together. Forever.

A/N: I know this is a little different from what I usually write, but I'm kinda obsessed with all things Jane Austen, have been for a while. Madly in love with all of the men in her stories (Mr. Darcy, sigh), so it was only natural for me to try to pull the two worlds together. Making Edward a dominant? Well, that was just what we call here in Louisiana, "lagniappe" (a little something extra). I did some research on 18th century British titles and how to refer to the different people in the household. Edward, being the first born son and heir, would be referred to as simply "Lord Cullen." Any other sons would then be referred to with their full names... "Lord Emmett Cullen," "Lord Jasper Cullen," etc. Edward would never be referred to using his first name. However, for the sake of the story, and the changing points of view, I used it for clarity. Please excuse the faux pas. :) Especially if I still didn't get it right!

I don't know if anyone noticed, but there is not a single curse word (or traditional "dirty word") in the entire story. That was kind of a goal of mine, considering the time period. Amazing that it can be so clean and so dirty at the same time, yes?

Thanks to the fabulous Le Crepuscule for making the banner for this story! (I hope this link comes out - FF is skeevy that way) http slash slash colon i1154 dot photobucket dot com slash albums slash p524 slash DazzledIn2008 slash Meadowood%20Banner slash Meadowood2 dot png It came out perfect, exactly what I wanted to express. She's amazing!

Thanks to MaBarberElla for pre-reading and giving me some amazing suggestions, as always. Most of them involved seeing more of Edward's obsession and perversion, so you can thank her for that. :)

The lovely Arc Morpheus has agreed to do an audio recording of this story for me in her beautifully British voice so that I can hear this story as I imagined it. And she has recruited her hot Edwardian nephew to read Edward's parts... ::)) When it's done, if she agrees, I'll post it online somewhere and give you a link. Thanks Arc!

And last but not least, as always, thanks to my beta and best friend LibbyLou862 for making everything I write sound SO much better!

Good luck to F4NKH - hope you had a successful campaign! And readers, I hope you liked this story! Please let me know! :)