"Lilia, the master asks for you." coldly called Claude Faustus from the other side of the door.
The hour was early; I had just finished my toilet and was getting ready to dress when he knocked on my door.
"At once." He insisted on the same tone in the absence of an answer from me.
I hurriedly put on a thin dressing gown that I barely finished tying when the door opened without further warning. Claude stared at me with his usual look, hard and disdainful, the same he had been addressing me since the master seemed to have taken a liking to me a few weeks ago, since he had burst into his room as I changed his sheets. Throwing himself laughing on the still bare mattress, I pretended not to see him and to continue my chore and let the cool sheet fall on him. I genuinely did my best to ignore him; I have never been comfortable with children, but it had amused him and since then he has not stopped demanding my presence more and more often.
I have never considered him anything but a spoiled, capricious and impatient child, but still I stand in his presence and try at best to answer all his requests, because of Claude, mostly. His constant presence and the weight of his inquisitive eyes on me never fail to remind me where my frail little place is.
But also, something about Alois Trancy scares me and disturbs me. It's his eyes I think, they do not hide the childish malice behind their young beauty but there is something else, a kind of impetuous need that he struggles to conceal. It's as if his little body was full of so many emotions that sometimes they overflow in a chaotic and dazzling way.
I cannot say if that's what happened that day, when he ordered me to join him in his room at the first light of day, then in his bed, before sending Claude away.
Slightly leaning against the headboard, I tried as best as possible to keep my dressing gown knotted on my nakedness while he took his ease at once, snuggling against me, his head resting on my chest, clasping my waist and thighs between his fine and delicate limbs.
"Hmm ... You smell so good Lili. Hold me against you!" he asked me in a voice still veiled by sleep.
I obeyed, running my arms around his back, tentatively caressing the thin fabric of his nightgown to feign the gesture of tenderness he demanded. For once Claude was not in the room, I felt less inclined to pretend. He did not seem to notice my lack of conviction and moaned softly, pushing his head into the hollow of my chest.
I imagined I would wait until he got tired or went to sleep again, but he did not do anything about it. Instead, he continued to sigh faintly as he tightened his grip around my waist.
As if he was not close enough, he began to lie down on me. Violet smells emanated from his hair, right under my nose, as he rubbed his face on my cleavage, gradually spreading the sides of my robe.
He stopped sighing and started humming some kind of lullaby, the vibrations from his throat spreading inside my chest. It was there that I felt his hand go up on my waist and then slip under my clothes through the opening. His fingers first brushed the top of my breast before his hand closed on its curve. Forbidden, I did not say anything at that time. I stopped breathing waiting for him to stop, thinking it must be a new fad, a new child's game, it could not have any other meaning than that.
As he pushed aside without hesitation the fabric that covered me and began to press my breasts against his face, I did nothing. I did not react either when he began to titillate the nipples with the tips of his fingers, chuckling happily to see it harden under his touch.
I see the ceiling. I remember I stared at it for a long time, stunned, singing his lullaby in my head, and did not lay eyes on his blonde head until I felt the warm, moist touch of his tongue on the sensitive tips of my breasts.
My hands clutched the fabric of my master's garment. They did not obey me anymore though; they seemed to be encouraging him, leaning against his back, pressing his chest against me.
Have I protested? I do not know anymore. I think I mumbled something indistinct. Or have I moaned? When his hands grabbed my flesh and his mouth ran through my skin, did I react to the tingling that invaded me at that moment?
At what point did the boy's slim body become so heavy on mine? When did his soft skin become so hot against my belly? By what maneuver did he manage to slip his legs between mine without my body pushing him back?
Treacherous flesh that greeted him willingly when he entered me and did not even reject the odious pleasure I felt as he possessed me.
Where did the boy I used to know go? For there was no boy with me in that bed anymore, I felt only an indecent and imposing body on mine, in mine, feeding me with touch, warmth and sweat?
My God, I liked that! How is that possible? I feel so horrible and guilty for my weakness. Shame is eating me away a little more each day, every time the master uses my body as he sees fit, every time Claude looks at me since the master said he became a man in my arms.
I'm just a toy now, perverted and disgusting.
I begged Claude to stop him, with my knees on the ground and my eyes full of tears, but nothing I do seems to reach him, as if he felt nothing. In return, I saw only malevolence and mockery on his face.
"You truly are interesting creatures..." was all he retorted.
Since that day, I feel lost and soiled; I do not know who I am anymore. Alois Trancy unveiled all the defilement of my soul when he took my body, and trampled every ounce of dignity in me with so much delight as one destroys a sand castle. All holiness has left this place, a long time ago, but I just had not noticed it before the darkness reached me too. I have to leave this place before it swallows me completely.
But today may be my chance. The master is very excited; a reception will be held tonight at the manor and one of the guests is a young aristocrat whom the master is very impatient to meet. Claude and the others will necessarily be at his side. This may be my chance.