Sorcha Courtisane Demoiselle Initiation
July 24, 2016
Demoiselle Initiation TODAY Please join us!
A Demoiselle initiation ceremony is at hand. Please join us as she is brought forth to serve the Dominants of Roissy Val d'Oise.
* Members only event
* Formal attire required
* Please be respectful and do not initiate a scene during this time
When Sunday July 24, 2016
Time 10:00 AM
Where Chateau Library
Propriétaire et Maître De Roissy Val d'Oise René
VdO Superviseur: Maitre Dusty Caldera
A beautiful summer sun shines brightly, illuminating the lawns at Roissy Val d'Oise, making skin glimmer with a thin layer of moisture. In the House of Samois a debutante nervously awaits the arrival of her time of Initiation....
Sorcha feels it's too early. She arrived too early. Stepped into Samois house before dawn. Paced until it was light. Stood in the window like a light. Let her mind move like a trembled flame. Troubled. At the thoughts of how today will be different from any other. How it will make her different for all days more. Trembling. Tremored with these thoughts. Then, she sees him. Her Storm who sees inside. Her Master. Her reflection. She checks the mirror one last time. She was there in a flash. Always feels like she's before a looking glass. She wonders what it looks like on the other side. What her world will be there, then, after. After this is all over. And it's still too early. But like a little girl running late, she slips out of the door. Something pushes her. Like a hand already inside. She's pulled to him by a crooked path. Sorcha's all tied up inside by it. By him. Looking up. Eyes noticing everything about his light. And how bright he smells. Sharp enough to cut her heart with a breath and wonders if he'll look as handsome without his clothes. As sharp. If he'll shine, and where. Sorcha's mind is a flood with thirsty images. So many movies yet to be unspooled. Better movies. Her hand lays in his. Shivers. Heats. Damp. Filmed.....
Inside the Chateau, the famille begins to gather, taking comfort from the heat in the coolness of the library. Maitre Dusty welcomes and gives announcements.
As the time nears, Maitre René arrives, "Bonjour dear famille."
After the greetings to him quiet, he continues.
"I just have to take a moment to say, we have hit a record high in the history of our lovely community! This month alone there have been:
- 3 Sister Events
- 1 Master Ceremony
- 10 Demoiselle Initiations
"And the month is not yet over!
"From what I see, there are 2 more Demoiselle Initiations and 1 Sister Graduation already on the calendar for this coming week and we also soon have an O Ceremony and I have many Sisters that have contacted me to get on the O path that will soon be approved.
"Amazing the quantities! Wow ..... My head spins with these numbers and all I can say is.............."
He looks at Dusty and then Gillian's spot, "You two have been busy beavers." He laughs warmly. "I want both of you, the other Admin --"
Dusty Caldera nods, "Thank you, René. We have a wonderful growing and thriving community here, lots of good people and a great admin group."
Matire René continues as if not interrupted, "-- the Dominants/Dommes who stand up for these ceremonies and all the Mentors who work so hard on behalf of our family to know that I appreciate each and everyone of you. Thank you for your loyalty and support… it touches my heart!"
Beaming a smile, he sits down in his chair, looks to Dusty. "My friend, please begin the Demoiselle Initiation."
The Ceremony Begins
Dusty Caldera nods.."Thank you Rene. We are so glad you have joined us today." After giving a few protocol reminders, he turns to look at the Demoiselle's mentor, "Xanadu, would you please bring the girl from the tower and present her to us, the Dominants of The Château."
Xanadu lfits her eyes and responds to his instruction.. "yes Maitre Dusty " .. then stands and advanceds to the door. Soon she returns with Sorcha, bringing her before all and presenting her to Maitre Dusty.
"Maitres Masters and Sirs, it is with pleasure i present Demoiselle Sorcha who wishes to continue on her path to sisterhood" then moved to her cushion.
Sorcha walks into the room trembling. Graceful. Shiny as spilled milk. A big accident. She is scared she'll do wrong. Wants only to be good. Avoid blame. There is no hiding from the eyes around her. Her hands fidget, too small on too many places to cover. Only find peace on the flow of her dress. Her Master's dress for her. Her special white dress. Sorcha's hands halt on her tight hips. Her eyes find harbor in Storm. Bathe in clean blue. Time is washed away. Only her eyes. Her. In his. They stare at her as she stares at him. She takes forever to flow across the room. Her eyes tap Miss Ayita's. Tether to Maitre Dusty. Sorcha pours to her knees. Her lips of parted pink push wide with breath. Pant. Pearl with slick. As wet as her green gold eyes. As wet as she feels. Sorcha is dripping. In white.
Dusty Caldera smiles as Sorcha is brought into the room, prepared in lovely garments and placed before me on the pillow, "Thank you, Xanadu...." then glances at the girl kneeling before me "Such a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl you have brought before us today." He looks down on the girl, Her creamy skin Blending well with the garments of white that she wears, kneeling rather angelic on the cushion and watching her closely as she kneels before me...."Sorcha, you were brought from Samois by your mentor today and by your own desire you have come here to be seen and to be initiated to serve all the Dominants of the Chateau."
He pauses a moment to drink in her beauty then poses the first of several questions to the young girl "Are you here today of your own free will, wishing to become a demoiselle for Roissy and serve the community with all your being?"
Sorcha bows her head respectfully. "Yes, Maitre Dusty. I am here of my own free will." Her eyes rise like the morning Sun. "I do wish to continue my path at Roissy, forever and ever."
He nods to her positive response, noticing the small blonde curls is a cascade over shoulders and continues on with my questions "In the novel of the 'Story of O', as René so generously gave O to Stephen for additional training, so your Master Storm offers you to the Roissy Val d'Oise community to serve and learn as you continue to grow In your understanding of your submissive nature.. Do you vow to serve with passion and with fire all of the dominant members of our community within your limits and your masters restrictions to follow the direction of the house of Samois and to ensure the comfort of all of those who would require your service? It's not too late to change your mind."
Sorcha nods in kind; it's a habit. She listens. She remembers the Story of O, all too well. Pink blush shimmies on her cheeks. "I vow to serve, Maitre. I vow to continue my education. My training. I promise to serve with passion and the fire inside of me. I will serve all dominants of Roissy Val d'Oise." Her words are as clear as crystal.
Dusty Caldera nods, looking deep into her eyes and sensing truthfulness in her vows..."Then rise, Sorcha and drop those garments of white about your feet and prepared to be tested as to your willingness to serve some of those dominant members as part of your initiation. Reveal yourself to display all that you offer the community."
She draws him deeper, with the green and gold of her eyes. Their promise to serve. When her tells her to rise, she does. She stands. The gown falls to her ankles and pools about her feet. Her heart beats like a hammer.
Dusty Caldera reaches out slipping my fingers along her then collar, finding the latch and snapping a leash to it, Sensing a small shudder as she is freshly leashed this morning, then tightens the leash just a little bit, pulling her closer to me, then bundles the gentle curls as they cascaded down her back, my hands running smoothly over the soft skin of her body, exposed for all to see as she turns slowly on the cushion. He runs my fingertip slowly down over her shoulders, admiring the beautiful woman she has become as she has grown in her submission
Sorcha shudders at the click of her collar. The leash has her tummy ready to toss its cookies. She shivers fetchingly at his fingertip that licks her shoulder, trails it.
Dusty Caldera Pulls out a blindfold from my hip pocket, leaning over closer to her and stretching The band around her head, closing her eyes from view and hiding her vision
She gasps audibly. A blindfold. She's always been afraid of the dark. She looks at the Maitre's eyes, remembering the light there.
Dusty Caldera yanks the leash tight , jerking just a bit as I lead her To the nearby post for her first test and grabs her hands firmly in mind, slipping on a binding cuff, careful not to get it too tight but tight enough to hold her firmly in place and throws her against the pole, tying the binding cuffs up through the loop at the top of the pole and securing her to it. He tugs tightly on the leash Then slowly draws from my hip pocket a large hunting knife, freshly sharpened and of stainless steel. It's glint in this room light still brilliant
Sorcha nearly stumbles when yanked so hard. She's lead to the pole, guided by his hand. Cuffs are slipped on to her tiny wrists. It's all so cold. Too dark. She hears that hammering heart. She feels. Her arms lift, wrists crossed, bound helplessly.
Dusty Caldera leans in close to the girl, my lips near the edge of her ear and whispered softly "you will be tested as to your management of fear, as I touch you with something that could harm you in a very deadly way. But I will be careful. And you will enjoy it" Gets a firm grip on the sharp knife, The butt of it firmly planted in my palm and leans forward, the flat of the blade sliding slowly along her right hip from knee up to her waist, the cold metal scraping along her skin just to let her get familiar with the touch, leans in close. "The unknown is the one thing that can cause the greatest amount of fear in us you must learn to manage that fear and realize that your safety is our major concern, but the damage can be severe if dealt with carelessly. DO NOT MOVE at this time."
Sorcha is tickled by his whisper. Kissed by so many meaningful words. She tests the strength of the chains. She's not going anywhere. 'Deadly' echos all her nightmares. She knows, deep down, he will be careful. He will be kind. He cares. She squeals when the blade smiles upon her skin. Its smooth, sharp smile. She bets it shines. She listens. It's all she can do. Sorcha holds still as a candle in a dark window. "Yes, Maitre. I don't move," she whispers. She her whisper is so light that you'd think she was talking to the something that has always hid in her closet.
Dusty Caldera grips the knife firmly and slides the flat on sharpened edge of the knife, slowly up and down her thighs on the outside, tracing those warm curves of her body as I journey around her. The soft pink skin depressed by the weight of the blade as it moves along her, then reverses direction, the sharp edge now sliding, gliding slowly along the smooth expanse of her hip, down along her thigh. Then slowly reverses the travel again moving along the inside of her thigh up toward that warm and delicious apex of her body but stopping short, my hand reaching out to steady her as it firmly grabs her soft shoulder, pushing her once more against that poll, the cold metal of the clamps making its impression upon her body as a pusher against it, the knife continuing to travel up and down along the inside of her thighs
Sorcha's thigh's part at his knife's hello. Soft pink skin shivers. Goes tight and tense as a slat. Tension slaps through Sorcha. It shakes her. But, she does not move. Feeling is on a knife's edge. Her nerves sing the song of its slide. She squeaks as she is pushed into the pole. She can't stop the shivers. She can't see in the dark. She swallows, her mouth ever so dry. Teeth chatter. Clatter.
Dusty Caldera pushes my hand forward as I reached her soft moist sex pressing the butt of the knife upward a bit so that it lightly rubs against her warm bits, moving back and forth for a moment, before sliding back down her inner thighs. Releasing some of the tension of the knife then the moving the flat part of the blade up along her back, moving up and down her spine, each vertebrae contacting the hard cold metal of the knife blade as it works its way to the top of her neck and slowly back down to her tailbone, bumping each piece of bone with the dull part of the blade, my hands still firmly grasping her shoulder as I leaned forward , whispering once again against her delicate ear "Face your fears, remain resolute in the face of danger and you will learned confidence, courage, and obedience" then slowly brings the knife back down to my side, slipping it quickly into the sheath, noticing only a small abrasion from the sharp knife blade along the outer part of her thigh. "You will need that looked at"
Sorcha''s pussy weeps as the knife comes close. Closer. It's touching her. Her cunt only cries more. She shakes small tears onto a big handle. Sighs as the knife slides her back. Slick slides down her taut thighs. She whimpers at his whisper. Pants. Feels pink. Not just on the small scratch. All over. All inside. "Yes, Maitre," is the music it makes of her voice.
Dusty Caldera relaxes my firm grip on her shoulder, releasing the bonds that bind her to the pole, leaving her blindfold in place and pull her back into my arms, guiding her slowly back to the chairs where the balance of her assessment will occur, feeling a slight shiver in both my hand and her body as I walk her slowly to the other dominants.
Storm stands. He moves, quieter than a shadow. Sets his hands on the pale post in the corner. Seals his eyes to Ayita. Leaves that bond to lock a moment. Lifts the post. Storm drags it into place. His flesh strains in his suit. He sets the post, composes his jacket and slacks, and sits. A look of gratitude grazes Dusty with its warm, steel edge. Glints. Storm's smile shines.
Dusty Caldera tugs the girl at the end of the leash until she stands in front of her next Initiator "Ayita, This girl seems to have little fear and has fared well with the test I gave her. I will now leave her in your capable hands to continue her initiation and prove her worth to the community that she truly will be an asset to us" then slowly hands the leash over to Ayita before returning to my seat, settled back down into my chair, the tension still apparent in my movements as I relax.
The First Opener & User
Ayita's gaze follows the pair as they make their way toward her. She swallows as hands clasp the leash, securing it to her glittering ring. Corner of her eyes spy Storm setting out the post, nodding to him in appreciation knowing his girl could still see nothing. Rises to her feet and cups the blond's cheek, other hand gently untying the blindfold. Turns slender figure towards the wooden object, bending close to her ear. "Do you recognize this Sorcha?"
Sorcha is tugged, held tight. She sniffs at the air. She smells the familiar perfume of a certain Domme. She wants to hold on to Maitre Dusty. Her Master. She has no clue where anyone is. She can only use her senses. Then, the blindfold is removed. Her eyes lay over Miss Ayita. She hints at a smile. She can't fully smile, though. Sorcha, still, has many, many challenges. She blinks. Her eyes adjust to the light. To the blue, blue eyes of Ayita. She glances at the wooden frame. She nods her head. "Yes, Miss."
Their eyes meet, clash almost. Painted lips curve upwards in her own small smile. That spark arcs between them, always present. "Your Master and I thought you might enjoy getting to sample it's pleasures today." As she speaks, voice firm and in control, the domme leads her captive toward the imposing object. With care, tapered fingers thread thick chains between the girl's cuffs. Reaches up and secures you to the top beam. Leaves you hang there, body facing audience. You would be forced to watch the faces as they witnessed such a moment. Palms smooth down creamy flesh, comforting yet with a promise of what was to come.
Sorcha gives the Miss her eyes, her features soften. Cheeks shiver. She has the stare of woman surrendered. Almost. Her heart aches to serve, best she can, the best. All the time. The pain of submission fills her eyes and makes them really wet. Her limbs move with Ayita's. She is hung, fo all to see. She remains in the eyes of another blue, Spring sky.
Ayita's sapphires glitter, emeralds shine. She does not break that jeweled contact, it was important it remain. Bends close, lips brushing the creamy swell of pert breast. She nips, leaving the smallest of marks. This was merely a distraction, a way to keep Sorcha's attention from true intent. Reaches behind the tallest of posts, deftly unhooking her flogger from its hidden nook. Pulls it back and runs the flat tails across your skin teasingly. She does not hit, not yet, merely teases sensitive nerves because it pleases her. Tips slide down pink nipples, wrist twists and flicks so leather licks in all the right ways. "Who will you serve should you be found pleasing here today?" Her painted lips gleam, they curve the smile of pure satisfaction as your body responds as it should. It knew, mind would follow, eventually they would pair together. Waits for those words, the response was needed before she could continue. With the echo of the last syllable, willowy arm moves backward. Blue pools always watchful, flicks wrist and so lands the first true blow of the instrument. A soft thwack echoing in the room. A second followed, she would keep it even. Breasts swinging gently, temping, as though inviting the tails that caress their skin.
Sorcha's mouth falls open when she's struck. Tears fill her eyes. She may not be surprised but, she is shocked by the hurt. So many falls of pain. Each tails speaks to the trembles of her flesh. Her face pales. She fights with something inside of her. Part of her thinks and feels that she's being punished. Another part of her feels rewarded. She thinks on any misdeeds. She looks on, certain to be relieved of all and any guilt. Her wealthy breasts bounce beautifully. The second strike coaxes her to scream. And she does. "I will serve, Miss Ayita. I will, I will, I will."
Ayita's brow furrowed for a moment, the reaction to the first concerning her. This did not last long, expressions of the beauty always tell a tale. She sees the shift, the transitions. Emotions war, chasing across delicate features .. the domme sees it all. The next licks at her skin, she does not stop. Only when soft cries spill from lush lips does she cease. Subtly motions for the one, that single being whom always calls like a siren to Sorcha. Still the brunette remains, fingers stroking along the pink flesh, nails trailing teasingly. "That wasn't so hard now was it." Voice slightly smug, enjoying the moment as she waits for him.
Sorcha kicks her feet. She swings her legs. The lack of foundation is frightening, to say the least. She really belts out her vow to serve, to never disappoint. She shows the Miss the war in her eyes, in her heart, and in her soul. Then, she's touched. The whipping has ceased. Her head hangs like a scorned servant. She is marked by red and by a woman she cares for. She can't even look at her family. Her pussy leaves Miss Ayita a kiss for her fingers' lick.
Storm has watched his girl all this time: From the moment that her gala arrival, draped in moon white, took his breath away, up to the last lash, the last sob, the sultry pause in the library. And all the many moments before - what seems whole lifetimes of them, since he first saw her, bare on her knees. All those moments, seem like rehearsals for this. Storm has watched Sorcha. He seen Sorcha. Experienced her. Sat, sweating as she sweat. Breathing ragged with her. Skin, heating as if they shared it. Now, he rises. He stalks to her. And though his heart is on fire in his throat, and his thoughts are cards cast on the floor, he sets eyes like perfect mirrors over her. Strokes her thighs with hands of velvet and iron. Speaks to her in a tone like the rustle of bedsheets in the nameless middle hours of deepest evening. "All is perfect, my baby girl. You've been such a good girl for me. For all to see. I see how open you are. How you flood. I'm ready for you. For us. You're ready to be open, and I," Storm says, hand pouring up her thighs, molten, tender, "am going to fill you now."
Ayita passes over the leash to Storm as he appears by her side. Offers him a smile all his own, different, the wordless communication between dominants. Steps towards the chairs, pausing only to brush a gently kiss along delicate shoulder blade. A moment, passing between that connection shared by the two women. She knew Sorcha would understand, would know she had pleased. Words were not needed. Then she brushes past, silently sinking back to cushioned depths.
Juliette SurrealDreaming
Roissy Journaliste
Xanadu Xue
Roissy Photographer
